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Jg         ©F        ACE 

Ii  '  £RS  MARSHALL 


OTHER  BOOKS  BY 
HENRY   RUTGERS   MARSHALL 
Pain,  Pleasure  and  Aesthetics 
Aesthetic  Principles 
Instinct  and  Reason 
Consciousness 


WAR  AND  THE 
IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

A  STUDY  OF  THOSE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF 

MAN  THAT  RESULT  IN  WAR,  AND  OF  THE  MEANS 

BY  WHICH  THEY  MAY  BE  CONTROLLED 


BY 


HENRY  RUTGERS  MARSHALL,  L.H.D.,  D.S. 


NEW  YORK 

DUFFIELD  &  CO. 
1915 


Copyright,  1915 
By  DUFFIELD  &  CO. 


TO 

THE   MEMORY  OF   MY  BELOVED   FRIEND 
JAMES  GREENLEAF  CROSWELL 


2231847 


PREFACE 

IN  these  days  of  international  strife  a  wide- 
spread emotional  reaction  has  for  the  mo- 
ment swept  us  all  from  our  intellectual  bear- 
ings ;  but  as  this  storm  of  feeling  begins  to 
spend  its  force,  thoughtful  people  must  neces- 
sarily be  led  to  look  for  the  lessons  to  be 
learned  from  the  untoward  events  that  now 
so  fully  compel  our  attention. 

Certain  problems  thus  brought  to  our  no- 
tice are  of  far  reaching  import  to  all  of  us  in 
relation  to  our  whole  attitude  towards  life; 
and,  as  I  find  in  my  experience  as  a  lecturer, 
are  of  deep  interest  to  many  thoughtful  peo- 
ple who  have  had  no  time  or  opportunity  to 
prepare  themselves  for  the  study  of  philo- 
sophical writings  dealing  with  such  subjects. 

I  have  therefore  attempted  in  this  small 
book  to  examine  some  of  these  problems,  and 
to  suggest  the  solutions  of  them  to  which  I 
have  been  led,  in  a  manner  that  is  as  free  as 
possible  from  the  technicalities  usually  met 
with  in  their  discussion.  The  technical  reader 
will,  I  trust,  be  ready  to  overlook  such  inad- 
equacies of  statement  as  he  may  discover,  and 
will  turn  to  the  fuller  treatment  of  the  sub- 
jects considered  in  my  already  published 
works,  to  which  I  refer  from  time  to  time. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAQK 

I    INTRODUCTION 1 

PART  I 

THE   BASIC   PROBLEMS 

II    NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS        .     21 

III  IDEALS   AND    OUR   ATTITUDE    TOWARDS 

THEM 50 

PART  II 

THE   SPECIAL   PROBLEMS 

IV  THE  LAW  OF  STRIFE  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF 

PEACE 95 

V    THE  MORAL  AND  KELIGIOUS  ISSUES       .  140 
VI    OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY  .  185 


WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 


War  and  the  Ideal  of  Peace 


CHAPTER    I 
INTRODUCTION 

IN  the  great  world  war  that  compels  the 
attention  of  all  thinking  people  to-day,  we 
have  an  example  of  those  stubborn  facts  of 
life  that,  now  and  again,  force  upon  our  no- 
tice certain  problems  which  if  answered  in 
one  way  yield  hope  and  courage,  if  in  an- 
other yield  pessimism  and  despair. 

Very  many  of  the  best  men  and  women  of 
our  time  have  for  years  been  living  in  the 
hope  that  in  the  century  that  has  just  dawned 
we  were  to  see  the  beginnings,  at  least,  of  an 
era  of  enduring  peace  among  the  nations  of 
the  earth  most  advanced  in  civilisation.  But 
this  hope  has  suddenly  received  a  rude  and 
crushing  blow.  We  have,  with  scarcely  a 
warning,  seen  the  great  powers  of  Europe 
launched  into  the  most  terrible  of  all  wars; 
and  this  while  all  the  nations  involved  have 

i 


2    WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

been  proclaiming  their  sincere  desire  to  main- 
tain peace.  We  seem  to  see  them  carried  for- 
ward to  this  catastrophe  by  forces  quite  be- 
yond intelligent  control;  and  we  are  led  to 
listen  to  those  who  would  tell  us  that  war  is 
the  resultant  of  an  inexorable  law  of  Nature 
by  which  man  is  governed;  who  argue  that, 
acting  in  accord  with  this  law,  man  must  fight 
with  man  for  dominance ;  that  therefore  wars 
must  from  time  to  time  occur ;  and  hence  that 
our  ideal  of  perpetual  peace  is  an  idle  dream. 
Those  of  us  who  have  clung  to  this  ideal  of 
peace  are  thus  led  by  the  present  crisis  to  ask 
whether  this  argument  is  a  valid  one,  and 
whether  there  are  sufficient  grounds  to  war- 
rant such  a  conclusion. 

When,  however,  we  turn  our  thought  seri- 
ously in  this  direction  we  at  once  find  our- 
selves compelled  to  consider  a  much  more 
fundamental  question,  which  indeed  is  not  in- 
frequently raised  by  lesser  misfortunes — 
the  grave  question  whether  in  reality  we  men 
and  women  can  influence  the  course  of  natural 
events  by  what  we  call  our  spontaneity; 
whether  we  really  have  any  creative  powers ; 
whether  we  are  not  rather  merely  parts  of  a 


INTRODUCTION  3 

huge  machine  governed  by  inexorable  natural 
law? 

And  these  questions  lead  us  further  to  ask 
what  we  actually  mean  when  we  speak  glibly, 
as  we  do,  of  this  creative  spontaneity  which 
we  so  hate  to  have  discredited,  and  which 
is  bound  up  with  our  ideal  of  full  individual- 
ity ;  and  again  to  queries  as  to  the  significance 
of  our  ideals  in  general,  and  as  to  their  rela- 
tions to  morality,  religion,  and  responsibility. 

Evidently  the  special  problem  which  leads 
to  these  broader  questionings  cannot  be 
solved  unless  we  gain  clear  conceptions  in  re- 
lation to  the  more  general  problems  thus  re- 
ferred to.  In  my  view  a  very  large  part 
of  the  current  discussion  of  the  special 
subject  we  are  to  consider  is  bound  to  fail  of 
profitable  result,  and  a  large  proportion  of 
the  suggestions  as  to  modes  of  action  to  be 
undertaken  in  the  present  emergency  are  all 
too  likely  to  prove  futile,  just  because  we  fail 
to  keep  in  mind  these  fundamental  concep- 
tions, and  their  proper  interpretation. 

For  this  reason  I  shall  ask  the  reader  to 
make  with  me,  in  the  two  chapters  to  follow,  a 
study  of  certain  data  that,  in  my  view,  must 


4    WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

be  kept  clear  in  our  thought  if  we  are  to 
reach  any  adequate  views  as  to  the  nature  of 
war,  and  the  possibility  of  peace.  In  our 
second  chapter  we  shall  inquire  into  the  real 
meaning  to  be  attached  to  the  conception  of 
inexorable  natural  law,  of  which  the  hypo- 
thetical law  that  results  in  war  is  supposed 
to  be  a  special  example;  and  in  our  third 
chapter  we  shall  consider  the  nature  of  ideals 
in  general,  of  which  we  have  a  special  in- 
stance in  the  ideal  of  peace.  In  Part  II  we 
shall  attempt  to  apply  the  results  thus 
reached  to  the  special  problems  that  interest 
us  so  fully  at  the  present  time. 

I  am  thus  deliberately  asking  the  reader 
to  begin  by  laying  aside  those  disturbing 
thoughts  that  tend  to  fill  our  minds  to-day. 
It  may  not  be  easy  to  do  so ;  but  it  will  serve 
a  double  purpose :  it  will  put  us  into  the  way 
of  dealing  calmly  with  the  problems  we  are 
finally  to  study;  and,  as  will  presently  ap- 
pear, it  will  lead  us  to  certain  results  that  are 
not  only  vital  to  the  solution  of  these  prob- 
lems, but  also  interesting  and  important  in 
themselves. 

Those  of  my  readers  whose  time  or  pa- 


INTRODUCTION  5 

tience  is  limited,  and  who  are  willing  to  take 
for  granted  certain  steps  in  the  argument 
to  be  presented,  may  turn  at  once  to  the  sec- 
ond chapter,  where  we  shall  study  the  mean- 
ing to  be  attached  to  what  we  call  the  laws 
of  Nature.  Before  doing  so,  however,  some 
among  them,  who  are  less  busy  and  more  pa- 
tient, may  be  interested  to  consider  with  me 
a  few  points  which  do  not  at  first  sight  ap- 
pear to  be  related  to  our  subject,  but  which 
are  in  fact  thus  related,  and  are  at  the  same 
time  of  very  far-reaching  importance. 

Assuming  that  such  an  one  does  open  this 
book,  and  reads  thus  far,  I  shall  ask  him, 
odd  as  it  may  appear,  to  consider  in  the 
briefest  possible  manner  certain  implications 
of  the  very  fact  that  he  is  a  conscious  being, 
and  that  he  recognises  himself  to  be  one  of 
many  such  conscious  beings.* 

The  study  of  what  is  known  as  compara- 
tive psychology  has  emphasised  in  our 
thought  the  fact  that  we  attribute  conscious- 
ness to  animals  by  the  interpretation  of  their 
behaviour  in  terms  of  our  own  conscious  ex- 

*  For  a  full  study  of  this  subject  confer  my  "Conscious- 
ness," Chapters  vi  and  vii. 


6    WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

perience.  This  fact  which  none  will  dispute 
calls  our  attention,  however,  to  another  that 
is  equally  indisputable  but  very  generally 
overlooked;  viz.,  that  each  of  us  uses  this 
same  mode  of  interpretation  in  attributing 
consciousness  to  his  fellow-men,  who  are 
themselves  animals  displaying  behaviour. 

If  at  this  moment  you  happened  to  see  me 
take  a  drink  of  water  you  would  think,  "He 
is  thirsty";  and  this  merely  because  the  ex- 
perience of  thirst  leads  in  your  own  case  to 
behaviour  of  a  similar  kind.  The  ordinary 
man,  to  be  sure,  is  inclined  to  say,  "I  of 
course  do  judge  in  that  way  in  many  cases ; 
but  I  surely  know  of  your  conscious  states 
much  more  directly;  for,  if  I  asked  you,  you 
would  tell  me  you  were  thirsty. ' '  But,  when 
one  comes  to  think  of  it,  one  will  see  that  even 
here  we  are  dealing  entirely  with  the  per- 
sonal interpretation  of  behaviour.  For 
speech  is  a  mode  of  behaviour;  and  its  in- 
terpretation differs  from  that  applied  to  the 
animals  mainly  in  the  fact  that  in  the  one  case 
we  deal  with  sounds,  and  in  the  other  with 
sights.  I  say  "yes";  and  I  hear  myself  say- 
ing it;  and  I  also  have  in  experience  what  I 


INTRODUCTION  7 

call  the  feeling  of  assent.  When  you  say 
"yes,"  I  hear  the  same  sound  that  I  heard 
from  my  own  lips  a  moment  ago ;  and  I  as- 
sume that  you  experience  a  feeling  of  as- 
sent similar  to  the  one  I  experienced.  We 
overlook  this  fact,  that  we  know  other  con- 
sciousnesses only  by  an  analogical  interpre- 
tation of  behaviour,  because  we  have  been 
thinking  in  this  way  ever  since  we  were  born, 
having  found  that  the  assumption  of  the  ex- 
istence of  conscious  states  in  our  friends  and 
neighbours  works  effectively  in  every-day 
life. 

When  we  consider  the  nature  of  this  mode 
of  interpretation  of  behaviour  we  discover 
that  we  actually  carry  it  much  further  than 
we  do  in  attributing  consciousness  to  animals 
more  or  less  like  the  human  animal;  and  we 
then  come  to  see  that  there  is  no  sound  rea- 
son for  the  usual  limitation  of  this  inter- 
pretation, and  that  if  we  carry  it  out  logically 
we  have  no  ground  whatever  for  refusing  to 
grant  some  form  of  mental  life  to  the  lowest 
of  animal  forms ;  no,  nor  even  some  type  of 
dim  mentality  to  the  plants.  In  fact,  were 
this  the  appropriate  place,  it  would  be  pos- 


8    WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

sible  to  show  that  we  have  no  logical  basis 
for  failure  to  grant  that  some  form  of 
psychic  existence  corresponds  with  each  and 
every  type  of  behaviour.  And  when  we  have 
taken  this  step  we  find  ourselves  forced  in 
consistency  to  go  still  farther ;  forced  to  look 
upon  all  the  activities  within  the  Universe 
as  correspondents  of  some  psychic  form. 

This  is  a  view  that  many  philosophers  of 
the  past  have  found  themselves  led  to  up- 
hold, although  they  have  had  much  less  rea- 
son for  doing  so  than  we  who  have  gained 
a  deeper  insight  in  regard  to  the  cor- 
relations of  biology  and  psychology.  Ap- 
proaching the  subject  from  a  standpoint 
quite  different  from  the  one  here  suggested, 
Professor  Josiah  Eoyce*  has  of  late  ex- 
pressed this  view  as  follows: 

"We  have  no  right  whatever  to  speak  of 
really  unconscious  Nature,  but  only  of  un- 
communicative Nature,  or  of  Nature  whose 
mental  processes  go  on  at  such  different 
time  rates  from  ours  that  we  cannot  adjust 
ourselves  to  a  live  appreciation  of  their  in- 
ward fluency,  although  our  consciousness 

*  "The  World  and  the  Individual"  ii,  pp.  225  ff. 


INTRODUCTION  9 

does  make  us  aware  of  their  presence.  My 
hypothesis  is  that,  in  case  of  Nature  in  gen- 
eral, as  in  the  case  of  the  particular  portions 
of  Nature  known  as  our  fellow-men,  we  are 
dealing  with  phenomena  of  a  vast  conscious 
process,  whose  relation  to  time  varies  vastly, 
but  whose  general  characteristics  are 
throughout  the  same.  .  .  .  The  processes, 
in  case  of  so-called  inorganic  matter,  are 
very  remote  from  us;  while  in  the  case  of 
the  processes  which  appear  to  us  as  the 
expressive  movements  of  the  bodies  of 
our  human  fellows  they  are  so  near  to  our 
own  inner  processes  that  we  understand 
what  they  mean.  I  suppose  then  that  when 
you  deal  with  Nature  you  deal  with  a  vast 
realm  of  finite  consciousness  of  which  your 
own  is  at  once  a  part  and  an  example." 

This  conception  throws  a  flood  of  light  upon 
many  problems  in  relation  to  our  conscious 
life,  to  some  of  which  I  shall  refer  later.  Here 
I  would  merely  fix  attention  upon  this  one 
important  implication  of  this  view,  viz.,  that 
if  we  are  justified  in  the  attribution  of  mental 
life  to  other  beings  than  ourselves,  as  we 
surely  are,  then  we  are  logically  forced  to  an 


10   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

extension  of  this  mode  of  interpretation  to 
cover  all  behaviour.  And  such  extension 
compels  us  to  see  that  it  is  impossible  to  gain 
an  adequate  view  of  Nature  without  taking 
into  consideration  the  idea  that  the  charac- 
teristic which  we  recognise  in  our  lives  as 
consciousness  is  but  a  special  form  of  a 
broader  psychic  characteristic  that  is  pervas- 
ive of  the  whole  Universe. 

This  means  that  if  we  undertake  to  inter- 
pret the  Universe  in  the  manner  that  is  com- 
mon among  ordinary  men,  and  that  is  made 
accurate  in  what  is  known  as  Science,  we  find 
our  interpretation  incomplete  unless  we  also 
seek  an  interpretation  in  terms  of  mentality ; 
or,  to  put  it  in  other  words,  To  the  Universe 
must  be  given  a  psychic,  as  well  as  a  natural- 
istic, interpretation. 

What  is  meant  by  the  phrase  "naturalistic 
interpretation"  is  of  course  clear  enough  to 
all.  It  is  such  an  interpretation  as  is  gained 
by  studying  objects  in  Nature,  and  their  re- 
lations to  one  another,  as  the  man  of  science 
does. 

What  I  call  the  psychic  interpretation  of 


INTRODUCTION  11 

the  Universe  is  usually  spoken  of  as  the  spir- 
itual interpretation.  I  prefer  to  use  the 
phrase  " psychic  interpretation"  because  the 
word  "spiritual,"  in  the  course  of  its  usage, 
has  acquired  many  mystic  and  religious  con- 
notations which  tend  to  lead  our  thought 
astray.  What  we  call  our  spiritual  life  is 
more  or  less  mysterious,  and  is  what  we  think 
of  as  the  noblest  part  of  our  experience. 
Consequently,  when  we  contrast  anything 
that  we  call  spiritual  with  something  else,  a 
measure  of  inferiority  or  indignity  becomes 
attached  to  this  something  else.  When,  then, 
we  speak  of  the  spiritual  interpretation  of 
the  Universe  as  contradistinguished  from  the 
naturalistic  interpretation,  the  spiritual  in- 
terpretation gains  nobility  and  the  natural- 
istic interpretation  comes  to  be  considered 
relatively  ignoble. 

But  there  is  really  no  foundation  for  such 
a  notion.  The  naturalistic  and  the  psychic 
interpretations  of  the  Universe  have  an  equal 
dignity.  This  I  shall  ask  the  reader  to  bear 
in  mind;  for  in  what  follows  I  shall  call  his 
attention  to  certain  bits  of  this  interpreta- 


12   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

tion — naturalistic  and  psychic — that  have  a 
very  definite  bearing  upon  the  problems  we 
are  undertaking  to  study. 

I  have  thus  reached  the  main  conclusion  to 
which  I  would  direct  the  reader's  attention  in 
this  introductory  chapter;  but  as  we  shall 
have  a  good  deal  to  say  in  what  follows  of 
the  relation  between  our  instinctive  reactions 
and  our  ideals  which  are  appreciated  in  in- 
telligence, it  seems  well  here  to  refer  briefly 
to  the  distinction  that  is  commonly  made  be- 
tween instinct  and  intelligence.* 

The  study  of  the  interpretation  of  behav- 
iour to  which  I  have  above  referred  leaves  us 
firmly  convinced  that  psychic  existence  is 
fundamentally  of  the  same  nature  through 

*  For  a  full  study  of  this  subject,  confer  my  "Instinct 
and  Reason,"  and  an  article  entitled  "The  Relation  of  In- 
stinct and  Intelligence"  published  in  the  British  Journal  of 
Psychology,  November,  1912.  Here,  and  in  what  follows, 
I  shall  use  the  term  instinct,  as  it  is  employed  in  common 
speech,  to  refer  to  relatively  definite  forms  of  activity; 
that  are,  or  have  been,  advantageous  to  the  individual  or 
the  species;  that  are  due  to  inherited  capacities;  and  that 
occur,  upon  the  appearance  of  the  appropriate  stimulus, 
without  recognised  intelligent  initiative.  In  my  view  all 
of  our  reactions  are  of  the  instinct-action  type;  so  that 
the  restriction  of  the  term  instinct,  as  suggested  by  Lloyd 
Morgan,  to  the  description  of  reactions  that  have  in  no 
•way  been  modified  by  experience  (even  were  this  possible) 
would  seem  to  be  uncalled  for. 


INTRODUCTION  13 

and  through ;  and  this  carries  with  it  the  con- 
viction that  human  consciousness,  as  part  of 
psychic  existence,  is  also  fundamentally  of 
the  same  nature  through  and  through. 

But  the  every-day  distinction  between  in- 
stinct and  intelligence  is  usually  thought  to 
imply  the  existence  of  two  diverse  types  of 
consciousness.  This  is  doubtless  because  we 
dimly  appreciate  that  instead  of  contrasting 
instinct  with  intelligence,  as  we  usually  do,  we 
should  properly  contrast  instinctive  acts  with 
intelligent  acts  on  the  one  hand,  and  ''instinct 
consciousness"  with  intelligence  on  the  other 
hand.  But  this  " instinct  consciousness"  is 
commonly  spoken  of  as  intuition,*  and  we 
thus  find  ourselves  dealing  with  the  common 
distinction  between  intuition  and  intelligence. 

Intelligence  is  evidenced  in  the  devising  of 
ends,  and  of  means  to  the  attainment  of  these 
ends.  Intuition,  on  the  other  hand,  appears 
as  a  guide  which  points  directly  to  a  path 
which  intelligence  cannot,  or  at  least  does 
not,  disclose. 

The  fact  just  noted  that  our  intuitions  are 

*Bergson  frequently  refers  to  intuition  as  "instinct  con- 
sciousness." 


14   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

bound  up  with  our  instinctive  life  leads  us 
to  see  that  we  are  likely  to  find  the  basis  of 
the  distinction  between  intuition  and  intel- 
ligence if  we  consider  the  basis  of  the  distinc- 
tion between  instinctive  acts  and  intelligent 
acts;  and  this  latter  is  at  once  clear.  Our 
instinctive  acts  are  of  types  that  have 
proven  effective  in  the  long  run  to  our  fore- 
bears :  they  thus  tell  of  the  experience  of  long 
lines  of  ancestry  in  the  past.  Our  intelligent 
acts,  on  the  other  hand,  although  fundamen- 
tally of  the  same  nature,  tell  of  attempts  to 
adjust  ourselves  to  present  conditions;  they 
are  experimental. 

The  distinction  between  intuition  and  in- 
telligence, then,  is  just  this:  intuition,  being 
an  instinctive  experience,  tells  of  the  past; 
intelligence  tells  of  the  present.  But  in  each 
moment  of  our  conscious  experience  there 
exist  both  this  reference  to  the  past  and  this 
reference  to  the  present  need.  In  other 
words,  in  each  bit  of  experience  there  is 
something  of  the  nature  of  intuition,  and  also 
something  of  the  nature  of  intelligence. 
When  the  reference  to  the  past  is  so  em- 
phatic that  the  reference  to  the  present  sinks 


INTRODUCTION  15 

into  insignificance,  our  experience  is  one  that 
we  describe  as  an  intuition.  When  the  refer- 
ence to  the  present  is  so  emphatic  that  the 
reference  to  the  past  sinks  into  insignificance, 
our  experience  is  one  that  we  describe  as  an 
act  of  intelligence. 

It  becomes  evident,  then,  that  intuition  and 
intelligence  are  of  equal  importance  in  ex- 
perience. We  cannot  hope  to  lead  effective 
lives  unless  we  give  heed  to  the  advice  given 
by  our  ancestors  in  the  intuitions  they  have 
bequeathed  to  us :  our  intuitions  point  to  the 
probable  safe  course  of  action.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  cannot  hope  to  live  effective 
lives  unless  we  employ  our  intelligence  to 
guide  us  in  attempts  to  adapt  ourselves  to 
new  conditions  in  which  we  may  be  placed; 
although  we  must  be  ready  to  face  the  fact 
that  our  intelligence  urges  us  to  experiment, 
which  is  always  hazardous,  and  may  well  be 
futile. 

It  happens  not  seldom  in  our  lives  that  the 
suggestions  of  intelligence  contradict  and  op- 
pose the  guidance  of  intuition.  How  shall  we 
proceed  in  such  a  case?  It  surely  will  not 
do  to  cast  aside  the  intuitional  guidance  of 


16   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

the  past  as  worthless;  we  must  listen  to  it. 
But  we  as  surely  are  not  justified  in  refusing 
to  listen  to  the  voice  of  reason ;  for  in  follow- 
ing it  we  have  our  only  hope  of  realising  a 
more  perfect  adjustment  to  new  conditions 
that  now  exist.  Our  proper  course  would 
appear  to  be  to  give  close  attention  to  all  that 
our  intuitions  have  to  tell  us,  restraining  our 
tendency  to  rush  forward  rashly  in  the  direc- 
tions suggested  by  intelligence;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  follow  bravely  the  dictates  of 
reason  where  we  find  ourselves  finally  con- 
vinced, acknowledging  that  we  are  trying  an 
experiment  looking  to  a  more  perfect  adjust- 
ment of  our  lives  to  the  conditions  that  sur- 
round us,  and  courageously  facing  the  risk  of 
failure  that  is  involved.* 

When  we  recall  the  fact  that  our  intuitions 
are  experiences  of  " instinct  consciousness," 
the  relation  to  our  future  studies  of  this 

*  Evidently,  then,  intuition  and  intelligence  are  of  equal 
significance  in  our  lives;  and  if  this  is  true,  it  surely  is 
folly  to  adopt  a  philosophy  which  overlooks  the  signifi- 
cance of  intuition  in  its  worship  of  reason.  It  was  against 
such  a  philosophy  that  William  James  poured  out  the  vials 
of  his  wrath.  But  just  as  surely,  on  the  other  hand,  should 
we  pause  before  we  adopt  a  philosophy  which  lays  stress 
only  upon  the  significance  of  intuition,  and  gives  but  a 
subordinate  and  even  obstructive  r61e  to  intelligence,  as 
does  Bergson  our  modern  mystic. 


INTRODUCTION  17 

brief  consideration  of  the  relation  of  intui- 
tion to  intelligence  will  be  apparent.  For  one 
of  the  questions  we  shall  have  to  consider  is 
the  relation  of  instinctive  action  to  intelligent 
action;  the  former  being  exemplified  in  the 
reactions  due  to  man's  inherited  traits  in  gen- 
eral, and  to  his  instinctive  warlike  activ- 
ities in  particular;  the  latter  being  exempli- 
fied in  the  activities  due  to  the  cherishing  of 
our  ideals  in  general  and  of  our  ideal  of  peace 
in  particular. 

Let  us  now  review  briefly  the  steps  we  have 
thus  far  taken,  and  note  their  import. 

We  are  eventually  to  inquire  whether  it  is 
true  that  the  periodic  recurrence  of  war  is 
inevitable  because  we  are  swayed  by  forces 
of  Nature  that  are  quite  beyond  our  control. 
We  have  seen  that  we  cannot  answer  this 
question  until  we  have  gained  a  clear  notion 
of  what  we  really  mean  when  we  speak  of 
these  "laws  of  Nature,'*  one  of  which  is  said 
to  result  in  man's  warlike  behaviour.  This 
has  led  us  to  consider  briefly  the  proper  mode 
of  interpreting  Nature ;  and  we  have  reached 
some  results  that  will  be  found  to  have  bear- 


18   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

ing  upon  many  of  the  points  to  be  considered 
later.  We  have  discovered  ground,  for  in- 
stance, for  holding  that  special  and  definite 
types  of  behaviour  necessarily  involve  cor- 
responding special  and  definite  types  of  men- 
tality, and  vice  versa. 

But  it  is  the  final  result  that  will  be  found 
most  helpful  to  us  at  the  moment.  We  have 
been  led  to  see  that  the  proper  comprehen- 
sion of  the  Universe  involves  both  a  psychic 
and  a  naturalistic  interpretation  of  Nature. 
This  indicates  that,  when  in  our  next  chapter 
we  ask  ourselves  what  we  mean  by  the  laws 
of  Nature,  we  shall  be  unable  to  overlook  the 
fact  that  these  so-called  natural  laws  involve 
what  we  may  call  psychic  laws.  This  very 
evidently  has  great  significance  in  relation 
to  our  inquiry;  for  if,  in  our  attempt  to  dis- 
cover the  true  meaning  to  be  attributed  to 
these  laws  of  Nature,  we  find  any  bit  of  our 
experience  that  is  necessarily  bound  up  with 
these  laws,  then  we  may  hope  that  a  study  of 
this  bit  of  experience  will  lead  us  to  a  more 
accurate  interpretation  of  them  than  might 
otherwise  be  possible. 


PART  I 
THE   BASIC  PROBLEMS 


CHAPTER  II 
NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CEEATIVENESS 

WE  have  undertaken  to  consider  what  truth 
there  is  in  the  assertion  of  those  who  tell  us 
that  the  occasional  recurrence  of  wars  must 
be  looked  upon  as  inevitable  because  man  is 
governed  by  certain  inexorable  laws  of  Na- 
ture which  make  war  necessary,  and  even 
salutary;  for  war,  we  are  told,  is  caused  by 
the  automatic  expression  of  inherited  in- 
stincts, which  expression  is  a  natural  law  of 
man's  being.  We  have  seen,  however,  that 
we  cannot  hope  to  reach  any  just  conclusion 
in  this  matter  unless  we  keep  before  our 
minds  a  clear  conception  of  the  proper  mean- 
ing to  be  attributed  to  the  phrase  "laws  of 
Nature";  and  to  this  subject  we  shall  now 
turn  our  thought. 

In  the  preceding  chapter  we  gave  reasons 
for  holding  that  we  cannot  properly  compre- 

21 


22      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

hend  the  Universe  unless  we  give  it,  not  only 
the  interpretation  gained  by  science  which 
is  commonly  spoken  of  as  a  naturalistic  in- 
terpretation, but  also  that  interpretation 
gained  by  the  psychologist  and  philosopher 
which  I  have  spoken  of  as  a  psychic  interpre- 
tation. This  being  the  case,  we  noted  that  in 
undertaking  to  inquire  what  we  mean  by  the 
laws  of  Nature,  which  is  our  present  task, 
we  shall  be  unable  to  overlook  the  fact  that 
these  so-called  natural  laws  involve  what  we 
may  call  psychic  laws.  And  this  evidently 
has  great  significance  in  relation  to  our 
present  inquiry;  for,  as  we  there  also  noted, 
if,  in  our  attempt  to  discover  the  true  mean- 
ing to  be  attributed  to  the  laws  of  Nature 
of  which  we  have  an  example  in  the  hypo- 
thetical natural  law  that  leads  to  war,  we  find 
any  bit  of  our  experience  that  is  bound  up 
with  these  laws  of  Nature,  then  we  may  hope 
that  a  study  of  this  bit  of  experience  will  lead 
us  to  a  significant  interpretation  of  these 
laws. 

To  the  consideration  of  one  such  bit  of  ex- 
perience I  shall  then  turn  the  reader's  atten- 
tion without  apology. 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    28 

!    '    //' 
When  we  study  our  personal  experience  as 

a  whole  with  care,  we  note  one  very  interest- 
ing characteristic  of  that  part  of  it  that 
comes  well  within  the  field  of  what  the  psy- 
chologists call  clear  awareness.  There  we 
find  what  we  describe  as  a  sense  of  our  own 
personal  spontaneity,  of  our  own  creative- 
ness,  of  the  making  of  what  is  new  by  our 
own  efficiency.  We  feel  that  we  ourselves 
indulge  in  creative  imaginations;  that  we 
make  for  ourselves,  by  what  we  call  our  own 
volition,  ends  and  purposes;  that  we,  by 
this  same  voluntary  process,  devise  means 
looking  to  the  realisation  of  these  ends  and 
purposes;  and  that  in  all  this  we  ourselves 
are  creators. 

And  the  appreciation  of  this  sense  of  our 
own  creative  spontaneity  goes  far  beyond 
this.  For  in  connection  with  our  intuitions, 
our  so-called  "  inspirations, "  our  inventive 
and  artistic  impulsions,  all  of  which  rise  out 
of  the  psychic  field  of  non-awareness  com- 
monly called  the  field  of  "  subconsciousness, " 
we  have  our  fullest  experience  of  this  creative 
spontaneity. 

Now  the  study  of  objective  nature  by  the 


24   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

man  of  science,  who  takes  what  we  call  the 
naturalistic  view,  constantly  forces  upon  us 
the  question  whether,  after  all,  this  sense  of 
creative  spontaneity  may  not  be  an  illusion. 
Are  we  individual  men  and  women  not  really 
parts  of  a  great  machine  that  we  call  Nature  ? 
Are  we  not  really  governed  by  the  inexorable 
laws  which  determine  the  activities  of  this 
great  machine?  Is  it  not  folly  to  assume  that 
this  psychic  life  of  ours  is  efficient  in  any 
way  in  relation  to  the  action  of  this  great 
machine?  Are  we  not  rather  subject  solely 
to  mechanical  laws,  as  is  claimed  by  many  of 
those  who  nowadays  uphold  what  is  called 
the  mechanistic  conception  of  life  viewed  as 
part  of  Nature? 

These  are  questions  which  on  their  face 
seem  to  the  ordinary  man  too  difficult  for 
him.  But  surely  we  all  ought  to  make  at  least 
some  attempt  to  answer  them;  for  we  are 
constantly,  of  our  own  volition,  choosing 
to  deal  with  situations  that  lead  us  to 
ask  these  very  questions.  We  find  our- 
selves tempted  to  think  that  we  are  mere 
creatures  of  circumstance  and  environment; 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    25 

that  we  are  mainly,  if  not  wholly,  what 
we  are  because  of  the  hereditary  traits  that 
were  given  to  us,  and  for  which  we  cannot  be 
held  responsible.  And  we  are  thus  at  times 
led  to  adopt  a  fatalistic  attitude,  and  to  be- 
come pessimistic  or  cynical:  to  think  that 
effort  is  futile,  and  perhaps  that  life  is 
scarcely  worth  living. 

It  usually  happens  that  those  who  allow 
themselves  to  think  in  this  way,  stop  just 
there.  But  I  submit  that  if  we  voluntarily 
indulge  ourselves  in  thoughts  which  raise  such 
questions,  as  most  of  us  certainly  do  more  or 
less  frequently,  then  we  are  bound  to  be  will- 
ing to  make  a  considerable  effort  to  look  for 
the  true  answers  to  them.  So  I  shall  here  ask 
even  the  hesitant  reader  to  try  to  think  this 
subject  through  with  me. 

In  dealing  with  such  problems  we  find  our- 
selves constantly  thrown  back  to  the  study  of 
our  individual  experience;  and  I  therefore 
suggest  that  we  begin  our  study  with  an  in- 
quiry concerning  terms,  asking  what  it  means 
to  be  an  individual. 

When  we  think    of  an  individual  of  any 


26   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

kind,  whatever  else  we  may  have  in  mind,  we 
certainly  do  not  conceive  of  something  that 
is  isolated.  We  cannot  describe  an  individual 
without  implying  that  it  is  part  and  parcel  of 
some  kind  of  system.  An  individual  and 
some  kind  of  system  are  necessary  correla- 
tives. The  individual  is,  for  instance,  an  in- 
dividual rock,  or  an  individual  drop  of  water, 
or  an  individual  plant,  or  an  individual  hu- 
man being,  or  an  individual  consciousness. 

Furthermore,  an  individual  cannot  remain 
an  individual  in  a  system  unless  it  displays 
the  characteristics  of  that  system.  That  is 
to  say,  an  individual  is  an  entity  in  which  the 
characteristics  of  a  given  system  are  exem- 
plified ;  and  if  it  does  not  display  these  char- 
acteristics it  changes  its  individuality.  I  am 
now  an  individual  living  man,  because  I  dis- 
play the  characteristics  of  living  men;  but 
were  I  struck  dead  this  instant  I  should  no 
longer  be  an  individual  man,  but  an  individ- 
ual in  another  system;  that  is,  a  system  of 
non-living  things;  and  this  because,  in  such 
a  case,  I  should  display  the  characteristics  of 
non-living  tissue,  and  not  those  of  living  men. 
We  may  then  make  this  as  our  first  point : 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    27 

An  Individual  exists  as  such  because  it  ex- 
emplifies the  characteristics  of  the  system  in 
which  it  is  an  individual. 

Now  when  these  characteristics  of  a  sys- 
tem are  carefully  formulated  we  call  them 
laws  of  that  system.  Thus  chemical  laws  in- 
dicate distinctive  characteristics  of  chemical 
systems;  physical  laws  indicate  distinctive 
characteristics  of  physical  systems;  biolog- 
ical laws  indicate  distinctive  characteristics 
of  living  beings ;  psychological  laws  indicate 
distinctive  characteristics  of  consciousness; 
natural  laws  indicate  distinctive  characteris- 
tics of  Nature.  So  we  may  substitute  the 
word  "laws"  for  the  word  "characteristics" 
in  the  statement  just  made,  which  then  reads : 

An  Individual  exists  as  such  because  it  ex- 
emplifies the  laws  of  the  system  in  which  it 
is  an  individual. 

This  leads  us  to  see  at  once  that  when  we 
speak  of  an  individual  of  any  kind  as  being 
"governed  by"  laws  of  any  kind,  we  mean 
no  more  than  that  the  individual  shows  itself 
to  be  included  in  a  system  whose  character- 
istics are  statable  in  terms  of  these  laws. 
Were  the  individual  not  governed,  as  we  say, 


28       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

by  these  laws  it  would  be  because  it  was  no 
longer  an  individual  in  the  particular  system 
in  which  these  laws  obtain. 

An  Individual  thing  is  "governed  by" 
special  laws  in  so  far  as  it  belongs  to  a  spe- 
cial system  whose  characteristics  it  exem- 
plifies. 

This  being  granted,  it  again  becomes  clear 
that  when  we  hear  it  said  that  an  indi- 
vidual man  is  governed  by  natural  laws,  all 
that  is  meant  is  that  he  is  part  and  parcel  of 
Nature,  as  we  comprehend  it;  and  that  if  he 
were  not  governed,  as  we  say,  by  these  laws 
he  would  not  show  the  characteristics  of 
Nature,  and  would  not  remain  an  individual 
in  the  system  we  describe  by  that  name. 

An  Individual  Man  is  "governed  by" 
natural  laws  so  far  as  he  belongs  to  Nature, 
whose  characteristics  he  exemplifies. 

What  we  mean,  then,  by  saying  that  we 
have  come  to  believe  that  we,  as  individual 
men  or  women,  are  governed  by  natural  laws 
is  nothing  more  than  the  statement  of  our 
conviction  that  we  are  part  and  parcel  of 
Nature. 

Now  I,  for  one,  am  not  only  content  to 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    29 

hold  such  a  view,  but  I  find  it  inspiring.  It 
would  be  distinctly  depressing,  it  seems  to 
me,  were  I  compelled  to  think  of  myself  as 
an  isolated  waif  in  this  vast  Universe  which 
we  describe  as  Nature.  But,  on  the  contrary, 
I  find  intense  satisfaction  in  being  able  to 
think  of  myself  as  part  and  parcel  of  Nature ; 
on  the  one  hand  guided  by  it,  so  to  speak; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  having  my  small  part 
in  making  it  what  it  is.  For  if  I  am  part  of 
Nature,  then  the  characteristics  that  make 
Nature  what  it  is  must  include  my  character- 
istics. 

And  now  the  relevancy  to  our  present  in- 
quiry of  the  subject  with  which  we  started 
begins  to  appear;  for  if  it  is  true  that  the 
characteristics  that  make  Nature  what  it  is 
must  include  my  characteristics,  it  is  also 
true  that  among  these  characteristics  is 
found  my  consciousness.  And  this  conscious- 
ness is  inclusive  of  the  sense  of  my  own  crea- 
tive spontaneity,  which  we  have  found  to  be 
so  marked  a  characteristic  of  our  experience. 
So  we  see  that  we  cannot  properly  compre- 
hend Nature  unless  we  include  in  our  thought 


30      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

an  interpretation  of  this  sense  of  our  own 
creative  spontaneity. 

The  interpretation  of  Nature  must  include 
the  interpretation  of  our  own  Sense  of  Crea- 
tiveness. 

Surely  we  have  here  a  practical  result  of 
this  mode  of  thought,  showing  it  to  have  been 
quite  worth  while  to  cope  with  such  difficulty 
as  it  entails.  Not  a  few  people  look  with 
something  like  terror  upon  the  notion  that 
they  are  altogether  governed  by  natural  laws ; 
and  become  pessimistic  because  they  think  of 
themselves  as  slaves  to  these  laws.  But  evi- 
dently if  we  take  the  view  just  considered 
there  is  no  real  basis  for  this  terror,  or  for 
this  pessimistic  attitude.  For  what  we  call 
laws  of  Nature  appear  to  be  merely  descrip- 
tive terms,  referring  to  characteristics  ob- 
served in  Nature.  If  the  observed  character- 
istics change  then  the  laws  change. 

So  we  see  that  we  are  not  slaves  to  laws 
of  Nature  that  are  external  to  us ;  but  rather 
are  ourselves  exemplars  of  these  laws  which 
our  own  activities  go  to  make  definitive. 

This,  then,  is  the  first  point  I  would  em- 
phasise. 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    31 

But  we  cannot  overlook  the  fact  that  the 
cynic  still  remains  with  us,  who  thinking  of 
himself  as  moved  by  irresistible  fate  looks 
upon  all  this  as  the  product  of  our  imagina- 
tion. He  is  likely  to  say  to  us,  ''Even  if  you 
have  shown  that,  instead  of  being  slaves  to 
natural  laws,  we  are  really  exemplifications 
of  these  laws,  you  have  not  gone  very  far. 
You  have  not  shown  us  that  our  sense  of  cre- 
ative spontaneity,  which  would  seem  to  give 
us  something  to  say  as  to  the  nature  of  things, 
is  not  an  illusion.  You  cannot  prove  this  un- 
less you  can  show  that  this  sense  of  creative- 
ness  of  ours  is  indicative  of  a  real  efficient 
guidance  of  Nature's  development." 

This  is  an  objection  that  we  must  meet; 
and  in  order  to  do  so  I  shall  ask  the  reader 
to  turn  to  a  subject  which  again  may  appear 
to  be  unrelated  to  what  we  have  already  con- 
sidered, but  which  in  the  end  will  be  found 
to  be  involved  with  it. 

The  very  earliest  of  men  have  had  their 
attention  attracted  by  the  sudden  appear- 
ance in  their  world  of  what  is  new  for  them, 
and  have  looked  to  the  objective  world  for 
the  cause  which  yielded  this  newness.  The 


32       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

process  which  results  in  this  newness  we  may 
call  physical  creativeness ;  for  physical  crea- 
tiveness  means  nothing  other  than  this. 

Again,  from  the  earliest  days  men  have 
wondered  at,  and  have  attempted  to  account 
for,  the  variety  of  objects  in  Nature.  And 
this  inquisitiveness  has  quite  naturally 
been  especially  aroused  in  regard  to  the  vari- 
eties in  forms  of  life.  How  have  these  come 
into  existence?  they  have  asked. 

Our  immediate  ancestors  answered  this 
question  in  a  manner  familiar  to  us.  For 
most  educated  people  of  our  type  in  the  last 
generation  believed  as  they  had  been  taught, 
and  as  their  progenitors  had  believed  before 
them,  that  these  diversities  in  natural  forms 
were  due  to  the  special  acts  of  God  described 
in  the  book  of  Genesis:  it  being  held  that 
He  created  these  diverse  forms  in  the  course 
of  six  days,  and  then  ceased  from  His  la- 
bours ;  and  that  since  these  original  creative 
acts  these  diverse  forms  had  remained  fixed. 

Modern  science  commonly  asks  us  to  look 
upon  this  conception  with  contempt;  for  re- 
corded astronomical  and  other  changes,  and 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    33 

geological  and  paleontological  discoveries  in- 
dicating alterations  of  living  forms,  have 
shown  us  conclusively  that  this  conception  of 
creation  as  given  in  Genesis  is  not  sound.  It 
has  been  found,  as  we  all  know,  that  these 
varieties  in  diverse  forms  of  living  beings  in 
our  world  can  be  accounted  for  by  the  occur- 
rence of  changes  in  diverse  directions  in  de- 
scendants of  a  common  ancestry;  and  it  is 
very  generally  assumed  that  these  modes  of 
evolution  of  diverse  forms  of  life  are  merely 
typical,  and  are  indicative  of  a  general  pro- 
cess of  evolution  which  accounts  for  all  the 
diversities  in  Nature. 

This  has  led  to  the  development  of  an 
hypothesis  in  accord  with  which  the  Universe 
is  conceived  of  as  something  akin  to  a  vast 
clock-like  machine,  that  was  once  upon  a  time 
wound  up,  so  to  speak,  and  is  now  in  process 
of  running  down;  and  it  is  held  that  all  the 
varied  forms  found  in  this  Universe  are  the 
results  of  the  redistributions  of  energy  oc- 
curring in  the  course  of  this  process  of  run- 
ning down. 

It  is  thus  held  that,  in  our  study  of  the  evo- 
lution of  diverse  forms,  we  do  not  need  to 


34      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

deal  with  a  creative  process  at  all;  and  we 
are  tacitly  asked  to  discard  the  whole  concep- 
tion of  physical  creativeness,  and  with  it  of 
course  the  conception  of  our  own  mental  crea- 
tiveness as  observed  in  our  volitional  and 
other  experiences. 

But  it  is  to  be  noted  that  this  hypothesis 
actually  does  assume  one  moment  at  least 
when  such  a  physical  creativeness  appeared ; 
for  if  we  really  wish  to  comprehend  Nature 
fully  we  must  ask  what  causal  process  is  be- 
hind these  redistributions  of  energy.  And 
when  we  consider  this  question  we  discover 
that,  according  to  the  hypothesis  under  con- 
sideration, this  huge  clock-like  machine  was 
at  some  time  in  the  past  wound  up.  Or,  to  put 
the  matter  less  colloquially,  it  is  assumed  that 
there  was  at  some  moment  in  the  indefinite 
past  a  primal  stirring  up  of  an  homogeneity, 
to  use  Herbert  Spencer's  terminology,  or 
what  we  may  speak  of  as  a  primal  ebullition 
of  energy,  which  started  the  redistributions 
of  energy  observable  in  our  world;  and  that 
to  this  primal  fact  we  must  look  for  the  cause 
of  all  the  varieties  in  our  world  as  we  find  it. 

Thus  it  appears  that,  after  all,  there  is 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    35 

little  excuse  for  the  scientist's  disdain  in 
dealing  with  the  scriptural  account  of  the 
origin  of  varieties  which,  with  many  other 
similar  accounts  devised  by  other  early 
thinkers  than  the  Hebrews,  is  now  relegated 
to  the  realm  of  poetry.  For  both  the  modern 
scientists'  own  view,  as  well  as  the  one  they 
reject,  agree  in  limiting  the  physical  creative- 
ness  to  some  moment  in  the  past,  but  within 
some  finite  time,  after  which  moment  it 
ceased  to  exist  as  such.  A  similar  "once- 
for-all-ness"  is  expressed,  or  implied,  by 
Bergson  in  his  account  of  creativeness :  but 
the  close  scrutiny  to  which  the  doctrines  of 
this  talented  philosopher  have  been  subjected 
has  brought  to  light  no  little  difficulty  in  the 
acceptance  of  this  particular  notion. 

All  this  leads  us  to  ask  whether  no  other 
hypothesis  is  available;  and  when  we  turn 
our  thought  in  this  direction  we  perceive  at 
once  that  there  is  another  possible  hypothesis 
which  meets  the  facts  equally  well,  and  which 
on  its  face  seems  more  likely  to  be  true  than 
the  hypothesis  that  this  physical  creative- 
ness  was  given  once  for  all,  and  that  since  the 
initial  moment  it  has  gained  no  increment. 


36   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

This  other  hypothesis  I  have  elsewhere*  put 
somewhat  as  follows.  Instead  of  assuming  a 
moment  of  creativeness  too  far  back  in  time 
to  be  denned,  it  certainly  seems  more  reason- 
able to  assume  that  this  physical  creativeness 
always  has  been,  and  now  is,  operative 
throughout  the  whole  of  Nature ;  but  that  its 
results  are  so  minute  in  any  particular  mo- 
ment that  they  are  likely  to  escape  our  ob- 
servation, and  are  usually  only  discoverable 
when  we  take  into  consideration  long  periods 
of  time,  as  we  do  when  we  study  the  geologi- 
cal record  and  note  the  continuous  develop- 
ment of  living  forms,  as  Darwin  did.f 

But  it  is  to  be  noted  that  if  evidence  of 
such  physical  creativeness  did  appear  in 
animal  organisms,  this  evidence  of  its  exist- 
ence would  surely  be  looked  for  in  connection 

•Address  printed  in  the  British  Journal  of  Psychology, 
November,  1912. 

t  This  difficulty  of  observation  may  be  due  in  part  to  the 
minuteness  of  the  effects  of  this  creative  process,  and  to  the 
crudeness  of  our  modes  of  observation;  but  it  may  also  be 
due  in  large  part  to  the  fact  that  the  objects  observed  are 
systems  of  minor  systems  in  which  latter  the  functioning 
of  this  creative  process  is,  with  more  or  less  completeness, 
mutually  inhibited.  In  inorganic  bodies  these  mutual 
inhibitions  within  correlated  systems  may  be  supposed  to 
be  relatively  fixed;  and  this  may  be  taken  to  account  for 
the  fact  that  in  the  inorganic  world  evidences  of  this  cre- 
ative process  are  especially  difficult  to  discern.  Organic 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    37 

with  modifications  of  the  typical  activities  of 
animals.  And  such  modifications  of  typical 
reactions  in  individual  animals  we  do  con- 
stantly observe  in  what  we  know  as  accom- 
modations to  changes  in  the  animal's  sur- 
roundings, and  in  what  we  speak  of  as 
" learning  by  experience,"  using  this  phrase 
altogether  objectively  as  relating  to  observ- 
able changes  in  the  animal's  habits  of  action. 
We  see  this  in  the  altered  reactions  of  the 
wild  animal  that  is  tamed;  in  the  tricks  we 
teach  to  our  pet  dogs.  And  the  modern 
biologist  tells  us  that  these  characteristics 
are  observable  even  in  the  very  lowest  forms 
of  animal  life,  which  until  lately  had  been 
thought  to  be  incapable  of  such  "  learning  by 
experience. ' ' 
But  we  men  and  women  are  living  animal 


bodies,  on  the  other  hand,  may  be  supposed  to  be  in  a  state 
of  relatively  unstable  equilibrium,  so  that  in  them  the 
mutual  inhibitions  of  this  creative  process  within  corre- 
lated systems  are  less  fixed  than  is  the  case  in  inorganic 
bodies.  This  may  be  taken  to  account  for  the  fact  that  in 
connection  with  organic  bodies  facts  are  commonly  observed 
which  may  be  held  to  be  results  of  this  creative  process — • 
facts  that  have  led  to  the  adoption  of  the  unsatisfying 
theory  of  the  vitalists  which  assumes,  in  opposition  to  the 
hypothesis  here  suggested,  the  existence  in  them  of  some 
"vital  principle"  or  "entelechy"  (Driesch)  which  acts  in  a 
manner  wholly  different  from  anything  known  in  the  inor- 
ganic world. 


38       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

individuals;  and  in  us,  as  in  all  animals, 
there  appear,  as  we  all  know,  many  modifi- 
cations of  typical  activities  in  our  attempts 
to  adjust  ourselves  to  the  changing  condi- 
tions of  our  environment.  Peary  when  he 
went  to  the  North  Pole  changed  his  habits 
of  action.  Roosevelt  when  he  explored  the 
tropical  regions  changed  his  habits  in  an  en- 
tirely different  manner.  In  fact,  men  are  more 
capable  than  any  other  animals  of  "learning 
by  experience"  and  of  accommodating  them- 
selves to  their  surroundings. 

We  men  and  women  thus  show  very  mark- 
edly in  our  own  lives  the  modification  of  the 
typical  actions  which  we  have  seen  to  be  in- 
dicative of  what  I  have  called  physical  crea- 
tiveness. 

All  this  we  discover  by  the  study  of  Na- 
ture without  any  reference  whatever  to  cor- 
relatives in  consciousness.  But  it  is  a  very 
significant  fact  in  this  connection  that  these 
adaptations  of  our  own  conduct  to  meet  spe- 
cial situations,  which,  when  looked  at  objec- 
tively as  the  biologist  views  them,  are  modifi- 
cations of  typical  activities  and  "learning  by 
experience,"  are  in  our  own  case  accompa- 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    39 

nied  by  what,  in  a  subjective  view,  we  call  in- 
telligence. We  feel  that  we  act  intelligently 
when  we,  like  Peary  and  Eoosevelt,  adapt 
our  habits  to  meet  new  climatic  conditions, 
and  when  we  "learn  by  experience,"  let  us 
say,  to  handle  carefully  a  coffee-pot  by  which 
we  have  once  been  burned. 

This  leads  us  to  note  that  it  is  in  connec- 
tion with  these  activities  of  intelligence  that 
we  find  the  most  distinct  sense  which  I  have 
called  our  sense  of  creative  spontaneity,  and 
of  which  I  have  said  so  much  in  the  earlier 
part  of  this  chapter.  We  feel  that  we  are 
active  agents  in  the  making  of  certain  ends 
and  purposes  which  involve  these  modifica- 
tions of  typical  activities,  and  in  the  actual 
production  of  these  modifications  themselves. 
We,  for  instance,  get  into  our  heads,  as  we 
say,  some  notion  of  what  we  call  politeness, 
and  we  ourselves  modify  the  typical  reactions 
that  would  lead  us  to  grasp  food  greedily 
when  we  are  very  hungry,  as  the  dog  does. 

Certain  conclusions  from  all  this  are  in- 
evitable. In  the  first  place  we  see  that  this 
sense  of  our  own  creative  spontaneity  corre- 
sponds with  what  we  have  found  to  be  justly 


40   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

described  as  a  physical  creativeness  exhibited 
in  the  modification  of  typical  bodily  activ- 
ities. 

In  the  second  place,  we  note  that,  inasmuch 
as  this  sense  of  creative  spontaneity  is,  as 
we  have  seen,  found  in  all  of  consciousness 
so  far  as  we  can  study  it  in  reflection,  it  must 
be  held  that  this  creative  spontaneity  belongs 
to  all  of  human  consciousness,  and  that  the 
corresponding  physical  creativeness  belongs 
to  all  those  activities  of  our  living  bodies 
which  correspond  with  this  consciousness. 

And  now  I  would  remind  the  reader  of  the 
broad  nature  of  consciousness  which  we  con- 
sidered in  our  introductory  chapter,  where 
we  saw  that  as  a  logical  extension  of  our 
habitual  mode  of  attribution  of  consciousness 
to  animals  by  the  interpretation  of  animal 
behaviour,  we  are  not  only  forced  to  grant 
some  form  of  consciousness  to  all  forms  of 
living  matter,  but  are  also  compelled  to  look 
upon  the  Universe  as  itself  pulsating  with 
psychic  life.  And  I  would  ask  him  to  con- 
sider a  conclusion  naturally  reached  from 
this  point  of  view. 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    41 

The  scientist  who  studies  Nature  tells  us 
that  our  bodily  activities  are  part  of  the  ac- 
tivities of  the  physical  Universe  all  of  which 
are  fundamentally  of  the  same  nature.  If 
then  some  form  of  consciousness,  some  type 
of  mentality,  corresponds  with  all  these  activ- 
ities of  the  physical  Universe;  and  if  con- 
sciousness, as  we  appreciate  it,  always  has 
in  it  this  creative  spontaneity,  which  is  paral- 
leled by  a  physical  creativeness  in  the  bodily 
activities  that  correspond  with  the  conscious- 
ness ;  then  very  evidently  the  presumption  is 
that  the  whole  Universe  is  replete  with  this 
creativeness,  physical  and  mental;  and  that, 
in  our  observation  of  Nature,  we  do  not  see 
plain  evidence  of  this  fact  merely  because 
of  our  blindness,  or  short-sightedness. 

We  are  thus  brought  back  to  the  position 
already  reached  by  our  previous  study,  viz., 
that  physical  creativeness  always  has  been, 
and  now  is,  operative  throughout  the  whole 
of  Nature,  but  that  its  results  are  so  minute 
in  any  particular  moment  that  they  escape 
our  observation  under  ordinary  conditions. 

And  we  also  see  the  real  meaning  of  the 
point  made  in  the  introductory  chapter  that 


42   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

we  cannot  properly  comprehend  the  Universe 
unless  we  give  it,  not  only  a  naturalistic  in- 
terpretation, but  also  a  psychic  interpreta- 
tion. 

This  conclusion  is  very  significant  in  our 
every-day  life,  for  it  enables  us  to  answer  cer- 
tain of  those  puzzling  questions,  referred  to 
above,  which  we  find  ourselves  constantly 
raising. 

In  the  first  place  it  breaks  down  once  for 
all  every  ground  for  fatalism.  For  it  shows 
us  that  what  we  appreciate  as  our  creative 
spontaneity  is  effective;  its  efficiency  corre- 
sponding with  that  of  a  physical  creativeness 
found  in  connection  with  our  activities  as 
naturalistically  considered;  which  physical 
creativeness  is  usually  masked  or  altogether 
overlooked. 

In  the  second  place  this  conception  re- 
moves all  the  sources  of  discomfort  so  often 
connected  in  our  minds  with  what  is  known 
as  the  deterministic  point  of  view.  Deter- 
minism is  based  upon  the  conviction  that  ob- 
servation always  shows  given  causes  yielding 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    43 

given  effects ;  and  that  if  a  specific  cause  ap- 
pears, a  specific  effect,  and  none  other,  must 
result.  This  is  often  taken  to  mean  that  we 
cannot  influence  the  movement  of  things  by 
our  creativeness.  But  surely  determinism  in 
itself  does  not  involve  any  such  doctrine.  It 
is  only  thought  to  do  so  because  fatalism  is 
usually  considered  to  be  necessarily  involved 
with  determinism;  which  is  certainly  not  the 
case. 

Fatalism  is  a  metaphysical  doctrine  that 
denies  the  existence  of  creative  spontaneity; 
which  determinism  does  not  do.  If  the  de- 
terminist  finds  evidence  of  the  existence  of 
this  creativeness  he  accepts  it  as  he  accepts 
anything  else  in  Nature  that  may  be  con- 
strued to  be  a  cause.  A  determinist  should 
be  unwilling  to  overlook  any  evidence  what- 
ever of  any  determinant,  and  if  among  these 
determinants  he  finds  this  characteristic 
which  we  call  our  creativeness,  and  which 
appears  as  the  cause  of  observable  effects, 
then  he  must  treat  it  exactly  as  he  treats  all 
other  causes.  So  it  would  appear  that  the 
determinist,  if  he  is  logical,  cannot  be  a  fatal- 


44      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

1st;  for  if  he  considers  all  the  evidence  he 
is  bound  to  agree  to  recognise  this  creative 
spontaneity  as  one  of  the  possible  efficient 
causes  in  nature.* 

And  finally  we  may  turn  to  the  so-called 
mechanistic  hypothesis  of  which  one  hears  so 
much  to-day,  whose  adherents  tell  us  that  all 
our  activities  may  be  shown  to  be  statable  in 

terms   of  physical  and  chemical  reactions; 

* 
which  in  their  turn  are  statable  in  terms  of 

purely  mechanical  principles. 

Here  again  we  find  that  the  maintenance 
of  this  mechanistic  hypothesis  does  not  lead 
to  fatalism,  or  to  the  pessimism  engendered 
by  fatalistic  conceptions.  For  the  most 
philosophically  minded  among  our  biologists 
are  content  to  look  upon  this  mechanistic 
theory  merely  as  a  good  working  hypothesis, 
as  an  effective  tool,  as  a  method  that  has 
practical  value  in  biological  work. 

*  It  would  be  altogether  apart  from  our  subject  to  con- 
sider here  the  relation  of  determinism  to  the  problem  of 
"free  will."  It  will  suffice  to  refer  the  reader  to  my  "Con- 
sciousness," pp.  641  ff.,  where  I  have  argued  that  one  cannot 
hold  that  the  self  is  free  to  act  in  accord  with  its  nature 
unless  he  accepts  the  determinist's  position;  and  have 
given  an  explanation  of  the  experience  of  choosing  between 
alternatives,  which  shows  that  it  in  no  way  involves  a 
denial  of  the  deterministic  view,  provided  this  latter  is 
freed  from  the  implication  of  fatalism  which  is  so  entirely 
unwarranted. 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    45 

In  a  late  address*  the  distinguished  biolo- 
gist, Dr.  Edmund  B.  Wilson,  tells  us:  "The 
scientific  method  is  the  mechanistic  method. 
The  moment  we  swerve  from  it  by  a  single 
step  we  set  foot  in  a  foreign  land  where  a 
different  idiom  from  ours  is  spoken.  We 
have,  it  is  true,  no  proof  of  its  final  validity. 
We  do  not  adopt  the  mechanistic  view  of  or- 
ganic nature  as  a  dogma  but  only  as  a  prac- 
tical programme  of  work,  neither  more  nor 
less." 

Thus  also  J.  S.  Haldane,  the  eminent  Ox- 
ford physiologist,  in  a  lately  published  bookf 
says:  "Again  and  again  mechanical  theories 
of  one  sort  or  another  have  served  as  tempo- 
rary working  hypotheses  round  which  experi- 
mental investigation  has  centred  in  physiolo- 
gy;"  but  "  as  a  physiologist  I  can  see  no  use 
for  the  hypothesis  that  life,  as  a  whole,  is  a 
mechanical  process.  This  theory  does  not  help 
me  in  my  work;  and  indeed  I  think  it  now 
hinders  very  seriously  the  progress  of  physi- 
ology." 

The  philosophically  minded  mechanistic  bi- 

*  As  President  of  the  American  Association  for  the  Ad- 
vancement of  Science  1914.     See  Science,  January  1,  1915. 
•{•"Mechanism,  Life  and  Personality,"  pp.  60,  61. 


46      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

ologist  will  merely  say  that,  if  this  so-called 
creative  spontaneity  is  an  efficient  cause,  it 
must  at  least  be  acknowledged  that  it  is  very 
rarely  evidenced  in  observable  form ;  and  that 
he  is  warranted  therefore  in  overlooking  it 
in  his  investigations ;  just  as  the  astronomer, 
for  instance,  is  warranted  in  overlooking  the 
perturbations  of  the  orbit  of  Neptune  due  to 
the  existence  of  the  relatively  minute  aster- 
oids, which  cannot  affect  the  results  with 
which  he  is  concerned. 

The  fatalist  denies  the  existence  of  crea- 
tiveness;  refusing  to  listen  to  much  cogent 
evidence  in  favour  of  this  existence,  of  which 
I  have  given  but  a  few  details.  The  mechanist 
in  biology,  on  the  other  hand,  in  his  ordinary 
studies  of  living  forms,  merely  agrees  to 
overlook  it;  for  the  reason  that  these  studies 
involve  the  concentration  of  his  attention 
upon  matters  that  in  any  event  can  seldom 
be  affected  by  it.  Whenever,  however, 
the  biologist  does  by  chance  note  what 
may  be  taken  as  evidence  of  its  existence,  he 
is  very  alert  at  once ;  as  is  clear  when  one  con- 
siders the  enormous  interest  excited  by 
De  Vries'  experiments  with  his  primrose 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    47 

"sports"  that  breed  true;  and  by  those  of 
T.  H.  Morgan  with  his  flies,  in  which  he  has 
noted  a  large  number  of  quite  new  character- 
istics that  are  transmitted  to  the  descendants 
of  those  individuals  in  which  they  appear. 

Let  us  now  review  briefly  the  results  we 
have  reached  in  this  inquiry  as  to  the  real 
meaning  of  our  conception  of  the  inexorable 
laws  of  Nature,  of  which  the  hypothetical 
law  that  results  in  war  is  held  to  be  a  special 
example. 

We  have  seen  that  law  is  merely  a  descrip- 
tive term ;  that  the  laws  of  a  system  are  noth- 
ing more  than  the  careful  formulations  of  the 
characteristics  of  the  system;  that  if  the 
characteristics  of  the  system  change  then  its 
laws  change;  that  when  we  say  we  are  gov- 
erned by  Nature's  laws,  we  do  not  mean  that 
we  are  slaves  to  laws  extrinsic  to  us,  but 
rather  that  we,  being  part  and  parcel  of  Na- 
ture, exemplify  her  characteristics. 

Again,  we  have  seen  that  as  we  are  thus 
part  and  parcel  of  Nature  our  characteristics 
must  go  to  make  Nature  what  she  is ;  that  any 
adequate  interpretation  of  Nature  must 


48      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

therefore  include  the  interpretation  of  human 
consciousness;  and, within  that  consciousness, 
of  our  sense  of  creativeness  which  leads  us 
to  conceive  of  the  possibility  that  we  our- 
selves may  be  concerned  in  the  making  of 
changes  in  those  characteristics  of  Nature 
which  we  call  her  laws. 

Turning  then  to  the  consideration  of  this 
conception  of  creativeness,  we  have  found 
reason  to  believe  that  physical  creativeness 
pervades  all  of  Nature;  although  its  effects 
are  difficult  to  discern.  We  have  noted  that 
certain  manifestations  of  this  physical  crea- 
tiveness are  given  in  modifications  of  typical 
forms  of  man's  behaviour;  i.e.,  in  actual 
changes  in  the  characteristics  of  man,  and 
hence  in  actual  changes  in  Nature's  char- 
acteristics which  when,  formulated  we  call 
her  laws. 

But  it  is  in  correspondence  with  such 
changes  of  typical  forms  of  our  own  behav- 
iour that  we  appreciate  that  we  act  intelli- 
gently, and  in  connection  with  which  we  ap- 
preciate most  distinctly  the  sense  of  our  own 
creative  spontaneity.  We  have  therefore 
been  led  to  hold  that  this  sense  of  our  own 


NATURAL  LAW,  AND  CREATIVENESS    49 

creative  ability  corresponds  with  a  real  crea- 
tiveness  in  Nature;  and  that  the  very  exist- 
ence of  this  sense  of  creativeness  is  a  proof 
that,  at  the  moment  of  such  appreciation,  we 
are  acting  effectively  in  directions  which  may 
change  these  characteristics  of  Nature  which 
we  speak  of  as  her  laws. 

This  study  has  prepared  us,  I  think,  to  con- 
sider with  some  measure  of  clearness  the 
validity  of  the  contention  that  recurrent  wars 
are  inevitable  because  man  is  governed  by  in- 
exorable laws  of  Nature  which  compel  him 
to  contend  for  dominance.  Before,  however, 
we  undertake  to  apply  the  results  of  the  pres- 
ent study  to  this  special  question,  it  will  be 
well  for  us  to  prepare  ourselves  in  like  man- 
ner for  a  proper  comprehension  of  the  real 
significance  of  our  ideal  of  peace,  by  consid- 
ering in  some  detail  the  nature  of  ideals  in 
general,  of  which  this  ideal  of  peace  is  a  spe- 
cial example.  To  this  subject  we  shall  turn 
in  our  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  in 

IDEALS  AND  OUR  ATTITUDE  TOWARDS 
THEM 


HAVING  considered  in  the  preceding  chapter 
the  meaning  of  what  we  call  the  laws  of  Na- 
ture, one  of  which,  it  is  contended,  compels 
men  to  make  war ;  we  now  turn  to  the  study 
of  the  nature  of  our  Ideals,  of  which  we  have 
a  special  instance  in  the  ideal  of  peace  that 
leads  us  to  rebel  against  such  a  contention. 

In  this  study  we  shall  deal  with  a  subject 
that  has  significance  for  each  of  us  in  many 
directions  quite  apart  from  its  relation  to  the 
appeal  of  any  special  ideal.  It  involves  the 
consideration  of  one 's  whole  attitude  towards 
life.  This  being  the  case,  I  shall  have  little 
to  say  in  this  chapter  of  the  ideal  of  peace 
itself.  I  shall  purposely  illustrate  the  points 
I  would  emphasise  by  reference  to  other 
ideals,  leaving  to  our  next  chapter  the  appli- 

50 


THE  NATURE  OF  IDEALS  51 

cation  of  what  we  learn  to  the  special  ideal 
which  leads  us  to  make  this  inquiry. 

In  the  preceding  chapters  I  have  attempted 
to  indicate  the  general  basis  of  the  belief 
that  our  creative  spontaneity  is  efficient  in 
the  Universe ;  and  I  would  now  call  attention 
to  the  fact  that  the  very  strongest  evidence 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  this  creative 
spontaneity  is  given  in  the  very  existence  of 
our  ideals;  and  that  the  very  strongest  evi- 
dence of  our  efficiency  through  this  creative 
spontaneity  is  given  in  the  fact  that  we  actu- 
ally are  able  in  some  measure  to  mould  Na- 
ture in  accord  with  these  ideals. 

For  what  are  our  Ideals  I  They  are  images 
of  situations  that  we  recognise  are  not  at 
the  moment  realised  in  Nature  as  we  find 
it,  but  which  we  long  to  see  realised. 

This  is  of  course  self-evident.  Our  ideals 
of  conduct  are  conceptions  of  right  action 
which  we  hope  may  be  possible  of  attainment, 
but  which  are  not  yet  attained.  The  ideal  of 
the  scientific  investigator  is  a  law  of  truth 
which  he  believes  to  exist,  but  which  he  has 
not  yet  discovered.  The  ideal  of  the  artist 
is  a  fulness  of  beauty  which  he  longs  to  ere- 


52      WAR  AND  THi7,  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

ate,  but  which  he  has  not  yet  approached. 
Or,  to  descend  to  the  commonplace,  the  ideal 
of  the  golf  player  is  a  low  score  which  he 
hopes  is  possible,  but  which  he  has  not  yet 
placed  to  his  credit. 

All  this  is  trite  enough.  There  is,  however, 
one  point  in  connection  with  it  that  is  highly 
important,  but  very  generally  overlooked. 
If  we  consider  the  nature  of  our  ordinary 
ideas,  exclusive  of  our  ideals,  we  find  that 
practically  all  of  them  are  connected  directly 
or  indirectly  with  the  action  upon  us  of  ob- 
jects in  Nature ;  for  they  are  interpretations 
of  what  we  find  existing  in  Nature.  Thus 
the  conception  of  heat  is  the  resultant  of  our 
experiences  of  hot  bodies.  The  notion  of 
change  is  forced  upon  us  by  the  constant 
alteration  of  our  experiences  in  relation  to 
the  world  about  us. 

But  when  we  turn  to  our  ideals  we  find  that 
we  step  beyond  the  interpretation  of  any- 
thing that  exists  in  Nature;  for  it  is  of  the 
very  essence  of  an  ideal  that  the  image 
or  idea  conceived  is  not  realised.  Now, 
clearly,  in  thus  stepping  beyond  what  is 


THE  NATURE  OF  IDEALS  53 

found  in  Nature  we  display  the  strongest 
possible  evidence  of  the  existence  of  our 
spontaneity — of  our  creativeness ;  evidence 
that  is  given  in  the  experience  of  each  one  of 
us ;  for  we  all  recognise  the  process  by  which 
we  create  these  ideals  of  objects  or  situations 
that  do  not  exist.  The  reformer — and  each 
of  us  is  to  some  degree  a  reformer — con- 
structs for  himself  ideals  of  educational 
method,  of  political  procedure,  of  social  re- 
generation, which  have  never  been  realised, 
and  which  are  opposed  to  certain  traditional 
modes  of  thought.  He  makes  his  own  ideals 
of  purpose,  and  his  ideals  of  means  to  ac- 
complish his  purpose;  and  in  this  demon- 
strates the  power  of  his  creative  energy.  In 
fact,  were  there  no  other  evidence  of  our 
creative  ability  the  very  existence  of  these 
ideals  would  suffice  to  establish  it. 

As  we  have  seen,  our  appreciation  of  the 
fact  that  we  are  acting  intelligently  is  in  it- 
self an  indication  that  adaptation  to  meet  the 
special  conditions  of  the  moment  is  occur- 
ring. When  we  entertain  an  ideal  we  are  act- 
ing intelligently  and  thus  showing  evidence 


54       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

of  our  adaptive  effort.  But  in  the  very  fact 
that  we  entertain  it  we  are  evidently  stepping 
beyond  the  mere  adaptive  effort  of  the  mo- 
ment; we  are  maintaining  this  effort.  The 
very  existence  of  an  ideal  thus  indicates  that 
he  who  entertains  it  is  engaged  in  a  creative 
effort  to  modify  Nature  as  it  exists  for  him, 
who,  in  creating  his  ideal,  appreciates  dis- 
satisfaction with  the  situations  in  Nature  as 
he  finds  them. 

The  ideals  thus  referred  to  as  most  famil- 
iar to  us  are  gained  in  the  clear  light  of  in- 
telligence. Some  of  the  noblest  of  our  ideals, 
however,  seem  to  come  to  us  as  "inspira- 
tions" as  we  say:  they  rise  from  within  the 
field  of  intuition,  and  apart  from  any  recog- 
nised intellectual  activity.  This,  however, 
does  not  raise  question  as  to  the  points  just 
made,  it  merely  gives  us  added  evidence  that 
the  whole  of  consciousness  is  fundamentally 
of  the  same  nature  through  and  through.  For, 
as  we  have  seen,  our  creativeness,  our  spon- 
taneity, while  more  clearly  evidenced  in  in- 
telligence, is  felt  more  keenly  in  connection 
with  our  intuitional  experiences.  And  this 


THE  NATURE  OF  IDEALS  55 

being  the  case  it  is  but  natural  to  find  that 
new  ideals  are  often  felt  to  be  due  to  intui- 
tion only ;  although  in  truth  they  are  largely 
developed  from  data  given  in  clear  thought, 
and  are  perfected  by  intelligence. 

But  there  is  another  fact  in  connection 
with  these  ideals  that  serves  to  show  the  ef- 
ficiency of  our  creative  spontaneity.  Not 
only  do  we  create  ideals  of  what  is  not  at  the 
moment  realised  in  Nature,  but  we  actually 
by  our  own  effort  may  in  some  measure  effect 
their  realisation  in  Nature.  These  ideals, 
being  not  yet  realised,  do  not  exist  in  Nature 
until,  acting  creatively,  we  put  them  there. 
We  attempt,  and  at  times  are  able,  to  force 
them  upon  Nature,  and  in  this  again  display 
our  creative  energy. 

Had  an  inquisitive  spirit  from  Mars  vis- 
ited this  earth  a  few  hundred  years  ago 
bent  upon  making  report  of  his  findings 
to  his  Martian  Association  for  the  Advance- 
ment of  Science,  and  had  he  studied  the 
social  conditions  then  existing  in  Western 
Europe,  he  would  have  discovered  no  signs 
whatever  of  any  procedure  looking  to  the 


56       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

education  of  the  common  people,  such  as  he 
would  find  if  he  revisited  us  to-day.  Nature, 
then,  as  he  would  now  view  it,  would  appear 
to  have  changed;  and  this  change  has  been 
brought  about  mainly  through  the  creation 
by  men  of  ideals  of  educational  opportuni- 
ties for  the  people  at  large,  which  at  the  mo- 
ment did  not  exist,  but  which  by  persistent 
effort  have  now  become  very  largely  realised. 
By  his  own  creative  spontaneity  man  has 
thus  forced  upon  Nature  a  characteristic 
which  did  not  obtain  these  few  hundred  years 
ago. 

Ideals  as  thus  described  are  recognised  to 
be  our  own  in  a  very  intimate  sense.  We 
may  for  convenience  speak  of  them  as 
Individualistic  Ideals. 

But  it  may  occur  to  some  reader  that  the 
statements  made  above  are  much  too  broad; 
and  he  may  point  in  evidence  to  the  existence 
of  what  we  may  call  Traditional  Ideals; 
which,  he  may  say,  are  surely  not  created  by 
us,  but  are  rather  given  to  us.  Thus  he  may 
say  that  ideals  of  truth-telling,  and  simple 
honesty,  were  taught  to  him  by  his  parents, 


THE  NATURE  OF  IDEALS  57 

and  were  thus  forced  upon  him  without  any 
exercise  of  his  spontaneity. 

This  brings  to  view  an  important  point; 
for  it  is  impossible  to  overlook  the  fact  that 
education  and  tradition  have  much  to  do  with 
the  nature  of  a  large  proportion  of  our  ideals ; 
indeed,  I  take  this  to  be  a  very  significant 
fact,  as  we  shall  see  later. 

But  here  we  are  led  to  ask  how  these  tradi- 
tional ideals  can  ever  have  come  into  exis- 
tence. They  cannot  have  sprung  up  suddenly, 
full  fledged,  as  traditional.  Each  of  them 
must  have  first  appeared  as  the  result  of  the 
insight  of  some  individual  seer,  whose  ideal 
appealed  to  those  he  influenced ;  who,  in  turn, 
by  teaching  it  to  their  children,  made  it  a 
traditional  ideal. 

This  becomes  clearer  when  we  think  of 
changes  of  traditional  ideals.  If,  for  instance, 
there  is  a  radical  difference  between  the 
ideals  of  the  time  of  the  ancient  Hebrews  and 
our  own,  the  former  must  have  been  altered 
by  influences  apart  from  the  Hebraic  tradi- 
tion— by  rebellions  against  it;  and  these 
could  only  have  arisen  from  the  spontaneity 
of  individual  men. 


58       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

So,  again,  we  think  of  the  Parthenon  at 
Athens  as  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  ob- 
jects ;  as  one  that  closely  approaches  our  tra- 
ditional ideal  of  beauty.  Yet  Aristotle,  who 
gave  much  attention  to  -^Esthetics,  could  not 
have  been  affected  by  the  Parthenon  as  we 
are,  for  he  thought  so  little  of  Architecture 
as  a  mode  of  expression  of  the  beautiful,  that 
he  defended  a  theory  of  Art  which  places 
Architecture  outside  of  the  realm  of  the  Fine 
Arts.  Since  Aristotle's  day  cultivated  men 
have  created  a  modification  of  the  ideal  of 
Beauty  which  leads  them  to  the  conviction 
that  Architecture  must  be  included  among 
the  Fine  Arts,  and  to  see  in  the  Parthenon  so 
noble  an  example  of  this  particular  Fine  Art, 
that  its  beauty  is  established  for  most  of  us 
by  mere  tradition. 

But  while  some  of  my  readers  may  agree 
that  these  traditional  ideals  represent  the 
spontaneity  of  men  of  the  past,  they  may 
nevertheless  still  find  no  ground  for  holding 
that  the  ideals  they  personally  gain  by 
education  or  tradition  are  in  any  way  what 
they  are  because  of  their  own  spontaneity; 
until  they  note  that,  although  these  tradi- 


THE  NATURE  OF  IDEALS  59 

tional  ideals  are  suggested  to  us,  nevertheless 
we  must  ourselves  act  upon  them;  we  must 
either  accept  them  as  they  are  given  to  us,  or 
must  modify  them ;  and  in  the  one  case,  as  in 
the  other,  the  activity  of  ourselves  is  in- 
volved. If  we  accept  them  we  make  them 
ours  by  an  act  of  will,  which  is  always  there, 
although  often  lost  sight  of.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  attempt  to  modify  them,  we  in  this 
very  fact  actually  create  for  ourselves,  by 
our  own  spontaneity,  new  ideals  diverse 
from  those  which  we  modify.  To  the  signi- 
ficance of  this  distinction  between  these  two 
types  of  ideals  we  shall  refer  later. 

In  order  to  illustrate  the  positions  thus 
maintained  let  me  ask  the  reader  to  consider 
one  of  our  most  commonplace  modern  ideals 
which  is  so  firmly  established,  and  so 
thoroughly  objectified,  that  we  come  to  think 
of  it  not  as  an  ideal  of  our  own  at  all,  but  as 
a  fact  in  Nature. 

We  usually  think  of  progress  as  something 
discovered  in  Nature.  In  reality  it  is  an 
ideal  of  our  own;  an  ideal  concerning  ideals. 
Progress  is  an  unfolding  of  situations  in  ac- 


60   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

cord  with  our  ideals  of  what  this  unfolding 
ought  to  show. 

Nature  displays  changes  of  various  kinds ; 
it  is  we  who  interpret  these  changes  as  being 
in  accord  with,  or  not  in  accord  with,  our 
ideals  of  what  these  changes  should  be.  If 
these  changes  accord  with  these  ideals  we 
say  that  we  note  progress.  If  they  do  not, 
we  say  we  note  retrogression,  or  at  least 
stagnation. 

We  think  of  the  development  of  vertebrate 
animals  from  other  forms  as  a  mark  of  pro- 
gress, and  these  other  forms  from  which  they 
developed  as  lower  animals;  and  this  only 
because  we  men  are  vertebrates,  and  our 
ideal  is  human  dominance;  and  because  the 
characteristic  attributes  of  human  life,  while 
found  in  large  measure  in  all  vertebrates,  are 
not  found  in  the  invertebrates.  But  I  can 
well  imagine  a  philosopher  among  the  ants, 
with  ideals  of  racial  significance  diverse 
from  ours,  arguing  that  the  development  of 
the  vertebrates  represents,  not  progress,  but 
retrogression;  and  actually  supporting  his 
contention  by  the  acknowledgments  of  cer- 


THE  NATURE  OF  IDEALS  61 

tain  modern  human  philosophers  who  glorify 
instinct  at  the  expense  of  intellect. 

So  again  the  trainer  of  the  prize-fighter 
thinks  of  his  pupil  as  making  progress  when 
the  pupil  gains  capacities  that  meet  the  train- 
er's ideal;  capacities  which  we,  with  diverse 
ideals,  look  upon  as  belonging  to  a  brutal  age. 
And  the  modern  mother  delights  in  the  pro- 
gress made  by  her  daughter  in  the  intricate 
modes  of  the  present-day  dance,  which  her 
Puritan  great-grandmother,  with  her  quite 
diverse  ideals  of  propriety,  would  have 
thought  a  certain  indication  of  a  fall  from 
grace. 

That  progress  is  an  ideal  of  ours,  and  not 
a  fact  otherwise  existing  in  Nature,  is  further 
evidenced  in  our  efforts,  and  at  times  suc- 
cessful efforts,  to  put  this  ideal  into  Nature 
where  it  does  not  now  exist.  "We  are  all  pro- 
gressives. Having  by  our  own  creativeness 
gained  an  ideal  of  those  changes  which  con- 
stitute progress,  we  again  are  often  able 
actually  to  realise  this  ideal  which  would  not 
be  found  in  Nature  but  for  our  creativeness. 

Much  the  same  line  of  thought  is  suggested 


62       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

in  relation  to  the  conception  of  purpose. 
There  is  little  convincing  evidence  of  the  ex- 
istence of  purpose  in  Nature.  Purpose,  as 
we  see  it  in  Nature,  is  an  interpretation  we 
make  when  we  find  the  unfolding  of  her  pro- 
cesses in  accord  with  our  ideals  of  purpose. 
We  put  purpose  into  Nature. 

A  similar  mode  of  consideration  leads  us 
to  see  that  what  we  call  the  good  is  also  an 
ideal  of  ours,  which  does  not  exist  in  Nature, 
and  that  evil  exists  only  in  contrast  with  this 
ideal  of  good.  This  is  an  important  point, 
to  which  we  shall  refer  later. 

Now  surely  in  all  this  we  are  dealing  with 
a  most  significant  fact.  For  in  the  very  per- 
sistency with  which  we  cling  to  these  concep- 
tions of  progress,  of  purpose,  of  the  good,  we 
have  evidence  of  the  force  of  that  spontaneity 
which  enables  us  to  create  these  ideals  of  pro- 
gress, of  purpose,  of  the  good;  and  in  some 
measure  to  effect  their  realisation  in  Nature, 
where  otherwise  they  would  not  obtain. 

Of  the  tremendous  force  of  our  ideals  in 
the  determination  of  human  conduct  I  do  not 
need  to  speak.  Think  what  the  ideal  of  in- 


THE  NATURE  OF  IDEALS  63 

dividual  liberty  has  done  for  the  race  of  man 
within  the  last  few  centuries. 

A  few  years  ago  a  small  group  of  thought- 
ful Chinamen,  seeking  for  the  basis  of  their 
subjection  to  the  great  Western  powers, 
thought  they  saw  it  in  the  prevalence  of  the 
opium  habit.  And  they  created  an  ideal  look- 
ing to  the  obliteration  of  this  habit,  an  ideal 
which  must  have  seemed  to  many  to  be 
preposterously  impracticable.  But  to-day 
we  see  the  masses  of  intelligent  men  in  China 
united  in  effective  efforts  to  destroy  the  traf- 
fic in  the  obnoxious  drug.  What  may  we  not 
expect  of  a  race  that  can  be  persuaded  by  an 
ideal  to  make  so  great  a  commercial  sacrifice  ? 

II 

These  ideals  of  ours,  if  given  by  education 
or  tradition,  appear  in  our  experience  as 
ideas;  and  if  they  are  gained  by  our  own 
creativeness  as  individualistic  ideals  they  at 
once  assume  the  form  of  ideas. 

Now  all  ideas,  as  such,  are  influenced  by 
the  self.  We  may  remain  relatively  passive 
in  relation  to  them ;  but  if  we  do  not,  we  must 


64       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

either  reject  them  and  discourage  their  de- 
velopment, or  accept  and  welcome  them  and 
encourage  their  development.  This  is  true 
of  all  ideas  without  any  exception ;  and  there- 
fore true  of  that  particular  class  of  ideas 
that  we  call  ideals. 

As  ideas,  then,  ideals  are  at  once  subjected 
to  the  influence  of  the  active  self,  as  all  other 
ideas  are.  We  may  remain  relatively  passive 
in  relation  to  them,  or  we  may  actively  reject 
or  accept  them.  If  we  remain  passive  in  re- 
lation to  them  they  still  remain  ideals  for  us, 
even  though  they  are  not  actively  accepted. 

This  passivity  in  relation  to,  and  this  ac- 
tive acceptance  of,  ideals  thus  represent  two 
quite  diverse  attitudes  in  ourselves  towards 
ideals.  Passivity  in  relation  to  them  yields 
pessimism.  Active  acceptance  of  them  yields 
optimism.  The  pessimist  is  not  without  the 
appreciation  of  ideals,  but  he  despairs  of 
their  realisation.  The  optimist  also  has 
ideals,  and  in  actively  accepting  them  tends 
to  guide  his  thought  in  directions  which,  di- 
rectly or  indirectly,  in  some  measure,  aim  at 
their  realisation. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  enlarge  upon  this  dis- 


OUR  ATTITUDE  TOWARDS  IDEALS     65 

tinction  of  attitudes.  The  recognition  of 
them  is  so  commonplace  that  we  even  find 
them  constantly  made  the  basis  of  jokes  in 
our  popular  journals.  The  appreciation  of 
the  existence  of  these  opposed  attitudes  to- 
wards our  ideals  does  not,  however,  in  itself 
indicate  how  far  either  of  them  is  rational  or 
irrational;  does  not  tell  us  whether  the  one 
or  the  other  should  be  encouraged;  and  to 
this  question  we  shall  now  turn. 

We  may  remark  in  the  beginning  that  we 
shall  limit  ourselves  in  the  main  to  the  con- 
sideration of  certain  arguments  and  asser- 
tions made  by  the  pessimist;  for  it  is  to  be 
noted  that  indirectly  he  acknowledges  the 
strength  of  the  optimist's  position,  by  always 
appearing  as  an  apologist.  He  endea- 
vours to  explain  why  it  is  that  he  cannot 
join  the  ranks  of  the  optimist.  He  contents 
himself  with  the  suggestion  of  reasons  that 
seem  to  him  to  indicate  that  the  hope  and 
courage  of  the  optimist  are  unwarranted. 

Paradoxical  as  it  may  seem  at  the  first 
glance,  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  the  pessi- 
mist is  such  just  because  he  is,  or  has  been, 
an  idealist.  He  has  entertained,  and  has 


66       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

been  disappointed  because  he  does  not  see 
realised,  what  is  perhaps  the  most  pervasive 
of  all  traditional  ideals :  an  ideal  which  pic- 
tures a  world  full  of  pleasure  and  devoid  of 
pain;  a  world  in  which  evil  does  not  enter, 
and  good  prevails. 

This  ideal  is  of  course  merely  one  of  count- 
less ideals,  but  it  is  the  one  that  seems  to 
a  very  large  part  of  mankind  to  be  the  most 
significant  of  all;  for  if  it  were  realised  it 
would  preclude  the  pains  of  disappointment 
resultant  from  our  failure  to  realise  all  other 
ideals,  and  therefore  clearly  could  be  realised 
only  provided  all  our  other  ideals  were  also 
realised. 

But  the  psychologist  tells  us  that  the  real- 
isation of  such  an  ideal  is  inconceivable.  He 
tells  us  that  pain  and  pleasure  are  necessary 
correlatives :  that  we  could  not  eliminate  pain 
from  our  world  without  at  the  same  time 
eliminating  pleasure.  And  surely  no  one  of 
us  could  wish  to  live  in  such  a  world. 

Pain  indicates  inefficiency  in  the  physical 
part  whose  activity  corresponds  with  the 
painful  experience.  Pleasure  indicates  effi- 


OUR  ATTITUDE  TOWARDS  IDEALS     67 

ciency  in  the  physical  part  whose  activity 
corresponds  with  the  pleasant  experience.  It 
is  when  we  are  exhausted,  and  our  muscles 
act  inefficiently,  that  we  experience  pain  at 
the  close  of  a  too  long  walk.  It  is  at  the  be- 
ginning of  our  tramp,  when  all  the  bodily 
parts  are  well  rested,  and  thus  well  nour- 
ished, that  the  efficient  muscle  activities  yield 
pleasure.* 

What  the  theoretical  pessimist  demands 
then,  in  the  banishment  of  pain,  is  the  banish- 
ment from  experience  of  all  indications  of  in- 
efficiency; while  on  the  other  hand  he  would 
wish,  in  the  retention  of  pleasure,  to  retain 
in  experience  all  indications  of  efficiency.  But 
evidently,  even  were  such  a  situation  possible, 
its  resultants  would  be  far  from  desirable. 
To  lose  all  warnings  of  inefficiency  in  the  loss 
of  pain  would  mean  a  headlong  race  to  de- 

*  The  observation  of  facts  of  this  nature  led  Aristotle 
to  accept  the  theory  that  pleasure-pain  corresponds  with 
bodily  efficiency-inefficiency.  This  theory  as  held  by  him, 
and  as  reiterated  by  many  thinkers  in  later  times,  has 
proven  unsatisfactory  because  the  efficiency-inefficiency  has 
been  held  to  apply  to  the  bodily  organism  rather  than  to 
the  specific  part  of  the  organism  whose  activity  corre- 
sponds with  the  mental  content  that  is  pleasant  or  pain- 
ful. In  this  latter  form  the  theory  holds  good.  Confer 
my  "Pain,  Pleasure  and  ^Esthetics." 


68       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

struction.  Did  we  experience  naught  but 
pleasure  this  would  indeed  mean  the  persis- 
tence of  no  activities  that  were  not  efficient ; 
but  it  would  soon  lead  to  exhaustion  were  not 
the  warning  of  pain  given  as  soon  as  this 
efficiency  is  replaced  by  inefficiency  in  the 
particular  part  indicated  by  the  pain. 

But  our  pessimist  may  perhaps  say  that  he 
is  not  concerned  with  the  question  as  to  the 
desirability  of  a  world  devoid  of  pain,  but 
with  a  question  of  fact ;  he  holding  that,  not- 
withstanding the  psychologist's  theory,  there 
is  on  the  whole  more  of  pain  than  of  pleasure 
in  the  experience  of  the  individual.  Let  us 
then  inquire  of  the  psychologist  what  he  has 
to  say  in  regard  to  this  claim. 

He  will  again  ask  us  to  consider  the  fact 
that  pain  means  inefficiency,  and  pleasure 
efficiency;  and  then  to  note  that  if  it  were 
true  that  the  pains  of  an  individual  on  the 
whole  overbalance  his  pleasures,  it  would 
also  be  true  that  there  exists  in  him  a  balance 
of  inefficiency  over  efficiency  in  his  daily  life. 
But  clearly  this  would  involve  speedy  death ; 
and  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  processes  of  life 
are,  on  the  whole,  long  continued. 


OUR  ATTITUDE  TOWARDS  IDEALS     69 

In  order,  therefore,  to  substantiate  his 
theory  in  this  regard  the  pessimist  must  rely 
upon  his  own  introspective  experience ;  must 
contend  that  for  himself  at  least  painful  ex- 
periences overbalance  pleasant  ones.  Here, 
however,  he  is  evidently  very  likely  to  be  led 
astray,  and  in  my  view  is  led  astray,  by  the 
fact  that  pains  as  a  rule  are  more  vivid  than 
pleasures,  and  are  therefore  more  easily 
held  in  attention:  they  must  in  general  be 
relatively  vivid  if  they  are  to  be  serviceable 
as  warnings,  as  they  often  are.  And  this 
leads  us  to  overlook  very  generally  the  exis- 
tence of  a  vast  mass  of  experiences  that  are 
pleasant  in  moderate  degree. 

The  pessimists  are  a  thankless  brood.  They 
easily  forget  the  multitudinous  mass  of  mod- 
erate pleasures  gained  in  experience  from 
moment  to  moment ;  and  can  find  only  words 
of  complaint  against  the  pains,  which  are  a 
merciful  provision  to  warn  them  from  dan- 
gerous excess. 

It  must  be  remembered  also  in  this  connec- 
tion that,  on  the  whole,  we  tend  to  give  to 
pain  a  more  dignified  role  in  the  constitution 
of  the  Universe  than  we  have  any  right  to 


70      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

give  to  it.  Human  pain  tells  of  the  ineffi- 
ciency of  some  special  part  or  parts  of  an 
enormously  complex  individual  organism; 
but  this  inefficiency  of  a  minor  part  is  of  but 
insignificant  moment  in  relation  to  the  pro- 
gress of  our  race  itself,  and  of  still  less  signi- 
ficance in  relation  to  the  Universe  of  which 
we  men  are  but  minor  parts. 

So  our  pains,  which  indeed  are  hard  to 
bear,  should  surely  be  looked  upon,  and  in 
fact  are  looked  upon  by  the  enlightened  man, 
as  of  small  moment  in  relation  to  the  higher 
values  of  life — in  relation  to  our  ideals  of 
justice,  of  mercy,  of  mutual  service.  "The 
most  important  lesson  that  man  can  learn 
from  his  life,"  says  Tagore,*  "is  not  that 
there  is  pain  in  this  world,  but  that  it  de- 
pends upon  him  to  turn  it  into  good  account 
— that  it  is  possible  for  him  to  transmute  it 
into  joy." 

But  some  readers  may  say  that  they  are 
not  so  much  impressed  by  the  pessimist's 
positions  in  relation  to  pain,  as  they  are  by 
his  emphasis  of  evil.  Is  he  justified,  they  will 

*  "Sadhana,"  p.  63. 


OUR  ATTITUDE  TOWARDS  IDEALS     71 

ask,  in  declaring  that  the  evil  in  the  world 
overbalances  the  good?  Let  us  see. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  this  chapter  we  con- 
sidered at  some  length  the  concept  of  pro- 
gress, noting  that  Nature  knows  no  such 
thing;  that  it  is  we  who  put  progress  into 
Nature  by  the  creation  of  an  ideal  of  what 
Nature's  changes  ought  to  show.  As  I  then 
said,  a  similar  mode  of  consideration  leads 
us  to  see  that  what  we  call  the  good  is  also  an 
ideal  of  ours,  and  that  evil  exists  only  in  con- 
trast with  this  ideal  of  good.  In  other  words, 
good  is  an  ideal  of  our  own  in  reference  to 
which  we  interpret  Nature.  If  we  find  that 
situations  in  Nature  accord  with  this  ideal  of 
ours,  we  call  them  good.  If  they  do  not  ac- 
cord with  this  ideal,  we  call  them  evil.  Na- 
ture knows  neither  good  nor  evil ;  she  fosters 
certain  forms  of  life  and  crushes  out  others 
without  a  qualm;  the  evil  and  good  are  put 
into  Nature  by  us  as  conscious  beings. 

We  think  of  ferocious  beasts  of  prey  as 
evil  things,  and  endeavour  to  destroy  them, 
that  human  life  may  be  the  safer.  Were  we 
lions  and  tigers,  and  could  we  then  think  as 
we  now  do,  we  should  look  upon  this  human 


72       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

life  of  ours  as  an  evil  to  be  strenuously  com- 
bated. The  ideal  of  good  of  the  supposedly 
intelligent  lion  or  tiger  would  thus  make  an 
evil  of  that  which  we  regard  as  a  good. 

Evil  thus  appears  as  a  conception  of  our 
own  which  we  attach  to  certain  facts  and  pro- 
cesses in  Nature.  But  it  is  to  be  especially 
noted,  as  I  have  already  said,  that  we  thus 
attach  evil  to  any  thing  or  circumstance  only 
because  we  have  created  an  ideal  of  good 
with  which  this  evil  is  contrasted.  Not  find- 
ing this  good  realised  in  Nature,  we  apply 
to  Nature  our  contradictory  conception  of 
evil.  Had  we  not  created  the  concept  of 
good,  the  demon  evil  would  never  have  reared 
his  head  to  trouble  us. 

Let  me  give  a  few  examples  to  illustrate 
this  fact.  Among  the  strange  people  of  the 
Pacific  Islands  the  child  of  five  or  six  years  of 
age  is  found  weaving  mats  from  morn  to  eve, 
and  no  one  of  its  tribe  thinks  it  unnatural 
that  it  should  do  so.  Child  labour  for  us, 
however,  is  a  bitter  evil.  And  why?  Be- 
cause we  have  gained  an  ideal  of  good,  in  re- 
lation to  the  child,  which  places  such  early 
labour  in  the  contrasted  category  of  evil. 


OUR  ATTITUDE  TOWARDS  IDEALS     73 

Our  complaint  against  the  injustice  to  the 
oppressed  is  due  to  the  fact  that  we  have 
created  ideals  of  justice  which  are  not  found 
in  the  semi-civilised  man.  What  we  call  the 
act  of  injustice  of  the  semi-civilised  man  is 
not  looked  upon  by  him  as  an  evil  act  at  all ; 
to  him  it  appears  to  be  quite  neutral,  as  any 
one  must  agree  who  considers  the  situation 
in  Mexico  to-day.  But  we,  who  have  gained 
an  ideal  of  justice  as  a  good,  at  the  same  time 
make  this  evil  of  injustice,  which  we  attrib- 
ute to  Nature  when  we  discover  that  our  ideal 
of  justice  is  not  realised  in  Nature. 

The  modern  demand  for  what  is  called  a 
" living  wage"  is  based  upon  an  ideal  as  to 
what  decent  living  entails.*  What  some  of 
us  think  of  as  indecent  living  seems  to  a  vast 
proportion  of  mankind  to  be  quite  normal, 
and  not  in  any  way  a  subject  for  complaint. 
We  have  created  an  ideal  of  what  is  the  mini- 
mum of  decency  in  living  which  throws  all 
that  is  below  this  minimum  into  the  category 
of  evil. 


*  It  would  make  the  issue  raised  in  this  matter  clearer 
if  we  always  spoke  of  the  "decent-living  wage"  instead 
of  the  "living  wage." 


74      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

Thus  ideals  of  good,  largely  self -created  as 
we  have  seen  all  individualistic  ideals  are, 
force  into  view  the  conception  of  evil.  And 
in  this  very  fact  we  surely  find  grounds  for 
optimism  rather  than  for  pessimism.  In 
truth  the  hope  of  our  race  lies  in  the  very 
fact  that  it  does  find  the  world  full  of  evil, 
for  this  indicates  that  we  have  firmly  fixed 
within  us  ideals  of  good  which,  so  far  as  real- 
ised, must  benefit  our  race.  It  is  we  who 
put  evil  into  our  world  just  so  far  as  we 
create  our  own  ideals  of  good.  And  in  the 
fact  that  we  do  create  these  ideals  of  good 
we  have  the  best  promise  of  advance  that 
can  be  given  to  us.  For  if  we  could  at  this 
moment  banish  from  our  world  all  that  we 
now  look  upon  as  evil,  we,  if  we  continued  to 
be  a  growing  and  developing  people,  would 
at  once  create  for  ourselves  new  ideals  of 
goodness  which  would  compel  us  to  view  as 
evil  much  that  we  now  accept  with  full  con- 
tentment. Only  if  we  remained  stationary 
could  evil  be  eliminated  from  our  world,  and 
then  with  the  abolition  of  evil  would  dis- 
appear all  conceptions  of  good  as  well. 

Konische,  the  most  famous  woman  poet  of 


OUR  ATTITUDE  TOWARDS  IDEALS     75 

Japan,  expresses  this  in  a  peculiarly  beauti- 
ful way.  Using  the  word  Paradise  to  rep- 
resent the  world  of  our  Ideals,  she  sings : 

"It  is  because  we  are  in  Paradise  that  all  things  in 

the  world  wrong  us. 
When  we  go  out  of  Paradise  nothing  hurts,  for 

nothing  matters." 

Another  ground  for  pessimism  is  often 
found  in  connection  with  the  acceptance  of 
the  doctrine  of  determinism,  to  which  we 
have  referred  in  the  preceding  chapter,  and 
which  is  so  often  identified  with  fatalism. 
But  we  then  saw  that  there  is  no  ground 
whatever  for  this  identification  of  deter- 
minism with  fatalism;  which  latter  involves, 
as  the  former  does  not,  complete  blindness  to 
the  overwhelming  evidence  of  creativeness  in 
Nature  in  general,  and  in  ourselves  as  part 
of  Nature.  Thus,  even  if  we  find  ourselves 
impelled  to  adopt  the  deterministic  position 
we  are  in  no  way  bound  to  adopt  the  pes- 
simistic attitude  born  of  fatalism. 

As  it  would  be  inappropriate  to  deal  here 
with  more  than  general  principles,  we  can 
refer  but  briefly  to  those  special  grounds  for 
pessimism  that  are  given  in  our  contempla- 


76      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

tion  of  the  ravages  of  disease,  especially 
where  this  is  due  to  a  morbid  inheritance; 
and  of  the  immoralities  of  man  that  seem  to 
be  traceable  to  a  similar  morbid  inheritance. 

What  we  call  a  disease  is  no  more  than  a 
special  form  given  to  a  living  being  by  the 
abnormal  activities  of  certain  parts  of  the 
body  which  throw  the  delicately  balanced 
organism  out  of  adjustment.  Disease  indeed 
may,  in  the  end,  destroy  the  body  as  such  a 
living  organism;  but  while  disease  exists  as 
such,  life,  although  abnormal,  still  persists. 

Evidently,  then,  the  state  of  disease  may 
properly  be  looked  upon  as  a  special  form  of 
life;  and  as  such  it  cannot  be  considered  to 
be  in  itself  an  evil.  Disease  becomes  an  evil 
only  so  far  as  it  is  contrasted  with  an  ideal 
of  good — only  so  far  as  it  yields  pain,  or  ap- 
pears to  curtail  the  efficient  activities  of  the 
stricken  individual,  or  likely  to  curtail  those 
of  his  descendants. 

That  the  existence  of  disease  considered  as 
a  source  of  pain  cannot  give  ground  for  pes- 
simism is  clear  if  the  existence  of  pain  itself 
gives  no  such  ground;  and  this  we  have  ar- 
gued at  length  above. 


OUR  ATTITUDE  TOWARDS  IDEALS     77 

That  the  limitation  of  the  efficiency  of  the 
individual  through  disease  is  felt  to  be  an  evil 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  we  entertain  an  ideal 
of  what  fully  efficient  vitality  entails.  And  in 
the  very  fact  that  we  do  entertain  this  ideal 
we  have  the  incentive  to  effort  to  combat  the 
untoward  effects  of  disease,  which  has  been 
one  of  the  most  powerful  forces  leading 
to  the  vast  development  of  therapeutics 
among  civilised  men. 

The  pessimism  that  is  engendered  by  the 
contemplation  of  the  fact  that  morbid  physi- 
cal qualities  are  often  traceable  to  inherit- 
ance compels  us  to  face  a  special  difficulty. 
The  inherited  trait  that  seems  obviously  con- 
nected with  the  physical  disease  cannot,  how- 
ever, be  treated  in  isolation;  for  all  of  our 
activities  without  any  exception,  and  hence  all 
diseased  conditions,  are  influenced  by  in- 
heritance. The  case  of  disease  that  attracts 
our  attention  as  being  obviously  traceable  to 
inheritance  must  therefore  be  viewed  as  no 
more  than  a  special  case  of  disease  in  gen- 
eral, of  which  we  have  already  spoken  above. 

The  fact  that  our  activities  are  largely  de- 
termined by  heredity  must  indeed  not  only 


78      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

^ 

be  faced,  but  must  be  accepted  with  thank- 
fulness. For  inheritance  in  general  tells  of 
the  experience  of  the  past.  Without  the  abil- 
ity to  take  advantage  of  this  racial  experi- 
ence through  heredity  we  could  scarcely  live 
an  instant. 

And  when,  finally,  we  turn  to  consider  the 
pessimism  based  upon  the  immoralities  of 
men  that  seem  traceable  to  inheritance,  we 
are  led  to  see  that  the  very  fact  that  we 
notice  in  ourselves  certain  immoralities 
which  seem  to  be  due  to  inheritance  is  indeed 
a  hopeful  sign:  for  it  means  that  we  have 
gained  ideals  of  righteousness,  and  have 
come  to  appreciate  that  our  modes  of  activity 
due  to  inheritance  do  not  work  in  the  direc- 
tion suggested  by  these  ideals.  This  merely 
goes  to  show  that  we  recognise  that  the  moral 
capacities  given  to  us  by  inheritance  require 
modification  if  we  are  to  adapt  ourselves  to 
such  conditions  as  we  consider  ideal.  And, 
as  we  have  seen,  we  have  the  basis  of  such 
adaptation  in  our  own  spontaneity  as  devel- 
oped in  the  life  of  intelligence. 

And  when  we  turn  to  consider  what  we  call 
the  immoralities  of  other  men,  and  see  in 


OUR  ATTITUDE  TOWARDS  IDEALS     79 

their  deplorable  acts  evidence  of  inheritance 
from  morbid  ancestors,  we  are  led  to  note 
that  these  other  men,  if  not  enlightened,  find 
no  fault  with  the  nature  of  their  inheritance, 
even  as  they  see  no  evil  in  what  we  look  upon 
as  their  morbid  acts.  It  is  we  who,  having 
gained  new  and  what  we  think  of  as  higher 
ideals,  find  their  inheritance  morbid,  and 
their  acts  immoral.  If  these  other  men  are 
to  see  the  evil  we  find  in  their  inherited  na- 
ture, and  in  the  immorality  of  their  acts,  they 
must  be  made  to  take  our  view.  And  this 
means  that  they  will  have  created  for  them- 
selves ideals  of  good  which  bring  the  con- 
ception of  evil  into  being;  and  that  they  are 
then  prepared  by  their  own  spontaneity  to 
modify  these  traits,  so  far  as  in  them  lies. 

On  the  whole,  it  is  to  be  said  in  reference 
to  these  phenomena  of  criminal  heritage,  and 
to  all  other  morbidities  of  the  world,  that  in 
the  very  fact  that  we,  or  those  who  embody 
them,  do  appreciate  them  to  be  evil,  we  have 
the  surest  sign  of  the  possibility  of  advance 
towards  a  better  situation,  for  it  is  a  sign  that 
we  have  created  ideals  of  what  we  look  upon 
as  not  morbid ;  and  this  in  turn  indicates  that 


80       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

our  spontaneity  has  a  field  for  endeavour 
looking  to  the  realisation  of  these  ideals.  The 
fact  that  we  feel  the  crushing  horror  of  such 
cases  merely  goes  to  show  the  existence  with- 
in us  of  vivid  ideals  which  we  may  strive  to 
realise,  and  may  in  fact  often  actually  suc- 
ceed in  bringing  to  realisation. 

And  now,  having  shown  that  the  pessimist 
has  no  sound  basis  for  his  position,  allow  me 
to  say  just  a  word  in  relation  to  the  grounds 
for  maintaining  an  attitude  of  optimism.  One 
of  our  most  noted  biologists  once  said  to  me 
that  he  never  ceased  to  be  filled  with  wonder 
when  he  considered  what  happens  when  any 
one  of  us  scratches  his  skin.  The  scratch  ex- 
poses cells  which  have  up  to  that  moment 
lived  what  we  might  call  an  exceedingly  dor- 
mant life.  But  the  scratch,  placing  the  cells 
under  new  conditions,  at  once  shows  them 
to  have  powers  that  could  not  have  been  di- 
vined from  any  observations  of  their  previous 
behaviour ;  for  they  at  once  begin  to  do  what 
they  never  have  done  before — they  begin  to 
form  new  skin  to  replace  that  removed  by  the 
scratch. 


OUR  ATTITUDE  TOWARDS  IDEALS     81 

This  capacity  to  undertake  what  appear  to 
be  quite  new  tasks  is  characteristic  of  all  liv- 
ing matter,  and  of  our  organisms,  which  are 
highly  complex  systems  of  living  matter. 
William  James,  it  will  be  recalled,  in  his  sug- 
gestive essay  on  "The  Energies  of  Men," 
says  in  summing  up :  "  The  human  individual 
lives  usually  far  within  his  limits;  he  pos- 
sesses powers  of  various  sorts  which  he  ha- 
bitually fails  to  use.  He  energises  below  his 
maximum,  and  he  behaves  below  his  opti- 
mum." What  he  means  is  that  we  habitually 
fail  to  allow  our  spontaneity  to  develop  its 
full  potentialities. 

The  pessimist  is  one  who  more  or  less  de- 
liberately curtails  the  development  of  this 
spontaneity.  The  optimist  is  one  who  more 
or  less  deliberately  encourages  this  develop- 
ment. And  in  such  encouragement  lies  our 
only  hope  of  advance:  for  in  this  sponta- 
neity we  have  our  only  mode  of  discovery 
of  adaptive  means  to  fit  us  to  respond  to  the 
constantly  changing  conditions  of  life,  our 
only  method  of  realising  the  ideals  we  have 
created. 

There  are  dangers,  to  be  sure,  in  connec- 


82   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

tion  with  an  optimism  which  leads  one  to  re- 
fuse to  face  the  facts,  that  declines  to  appre- 
ciate the  existence  of  evils  in  the  world;  an 
optimism  which  tempts  us,  like  Podsnap  in 
Dickens 's  "Our  Mutual  Friend,"  to  sweep 
them  from  our  world  by  a  wave  of  one 's  men- 
tal hand,  so  to  speak. 

Beyond  this  we  all  tend  to  be  over  self- 
confident,  ever  ready  to  think  ourselves  great 
inventors,  and  to  forget  the  possibility,  and 
in  fact  the  probability,  that  the  new  ideals 
we  make  for  ourselves  may  well  have  been  al- 
ready entertained,  and  contended  for,  by 
others  in  the  past ;  and  have  left  no  record  in 
existing  standards  merely  because  they  have 
failed  to  be  effective. 

Nor  must  we  fail  to  note  that  our  ideals,  if 
realised,  will  themselves  be  no  more  than 
experiments.  What  exists  in  Nature  has  for 
one  reason  or  another  been  able  to  stand  the 
test  of  time.  Our  attempted  changes  in  Na- 
ture to  make  it  accord  with  our  ideals  must 
stand  the  same  test. 

So,  although  we  should  be  courageous,  and 
even  daring,  in  defence  of  our  individualistic 
ideals,  we  must  be  ever  ready  to  face  the 


OUR  ATTITUDE  TOWARDS  IDEALS     83 

facts.  I  am  not  recommending  a  blind  opti- 
mism: such  irrational  optimism  as  that  just 
referred  to,  when  it  is  forced  upon  occasion 
to  face  the  facts,  is  not  uncommonly  dis- 
placed by  a  correspondingly  irrational  pessi- 
mism. I  do  find  grounds,  however,  for  an  in- 
telligent optimism  in  the  very  fact  that  we 
discover  ourselves  creating  ideals  and  act- 
ually forcing  their  realisation  in  Nature  by 
our  own  creative  energy.  What  we  need  is 
courage  to  use  our  spontaneity,  which  alone 
can  lead  us  forward ;  and  this  is  the  attitude 
of  optimism. 

We  have  reached  the  end  of  the  study  we 
set  out  to  make ;  but  in  closing  I  would  refer 
briefly  to  one  point  in  relation  to  our  ideals, 
that  will  appear  of  significance  in  a  later 
chapter. 

As  we  have  seen  above,  our  ideals  are  of 
two  forms:  individualistic  and  traditional. 
Individualistic  ideals  are  those  invented  or 
adopted  by  the  reformer,  who  dreams  of  sit- 
uations not  realised,  but  which  he  pictures 
as  possible  of  realisation.  Traditional  ideals, 
on  the  other  hand,  speak  of  existing  custom 


84      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

and  habit ;  they  are  given  to  us  ready-made ; 
they  are  the  result  of  a  sifting  process  that 
has  separated  out  those  ideals  that  have 
proved  to  be  most  persistent,  and  in  general 
most  effective,  from  the  chaos  of  diverse  in- 
dividualistic ideals  held  in  the  past  by  people 
of  diverse  characters.  Our  individualistic 
ideals,  therefore,  tell  of  the  present,  and  of 
attempts  to  adjust  ourselves  to  conditions  in 
the  present.  Traditional  ideals,  on  the  other 
hand,  tell  of  the  experience  of  the  past. 

We  thus  see  that  the  individualistic  ideal 
and  the  traditional  ideal  each  has  a  dignity 
of  its  own,  although  they  are  in  a  sense  op- 
posed to  one  another.  Our  traditional  ideals, 
as  embodied  in  existing  standards  and  modes 
of  procedure,  tell  of  the  past  experience  of 
the  race ;  and  we  certainly  cannot  hope  to  be 
effective  individuals  if  we  lightly  cast  them 
aside,  for  they  exist  because  they  have  stood 
the  test  of  time.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is 
equally  true  that  we  cannot  hope  to  be  effec- 
tive individuals  unless  we  are  prepared  to 
make  effort  to  meet  present  conditions  as 
these  are  indicated  by  the  existence  of  the  in- 
dividualistic ideals  that  are  given  to  the  re- 


THE  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS  85 

former;  and  these  we  surely  must  consider 
closely,  and  cling  to  with  all  our  strength  if 
upon  consideration  they  appear  to  us  to  be 
warranted. 

It  is  of  course  evident  that  in  laying  aside 
the  ideals  of  tradition  in  favour  of  our  indi- 
vidualistic ideals,  we  take  great  risk;  for 
these  traditional  ideals  tell  of  values  found 
by  a  long  array  of  our  ancestors.  We  must 
always  remember  that  our  own  special  indi- 
vidualistic ideals  of  reform  are  of  an  experi- 
mental nature,  and  that  they  may  well  fail  to 
yield  results  as  effective  as  those  suggested 
by  the  experience  of  the  past  as  embodied  in 
traditional  ideals. 

On  the  whole,  then,  we  may  say  that  we 
must  give  full  weight  to  the  warnings  of  tra- 
dition; but  that,  having  done  so,  we  are 
bound  to  cultivate  our  individually  divergent 
ideals,  bound  to  work  for  reform,  if  after  full 
consideration  these  individualistic  ideals  still 
press  us  to  action;  for  only  by  such  cultiva- 
tion can  we  hope  for  the  establishment  of 
new  ideals  better  fitted  than  the  old  to  meet 
new  conditions.  It  were  surely  rank  cowar- 
dice to  be  unwilling  to  face  with  courage  the 


86   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

dangers  involved  in  such  opposition  to  the 
ideals  of  tradition. 

But  in  acting  thus  we  must  not  allow  our- 
selves to  overlook  the  fact  that  we  all  tend 
to  be  over  self-confident;  ever  ready,  as  I 
have  said  above,  to  think  ourselves  great  in- 
ventors ;  ever  ready  to  forget  the  probability 
that  these  new  ideals  that  we  have  made  for 
ourselves  may  well  have  been  entertained  and 
contended  for  by  others  in  the  past,  and  have 
left  no  record  in  existing  standards  and 
modes  of  procedure  merely  because  they  have 
failed  to  be  as  effective  as  the  methods  of 
tradition  they  would  displace. 

In  the  opening  paragraphs  of  this  chapter 
I  have  said  that,  as  I  wished  to  concentrate 
attention  upon  the  nature  of  ideals  in  gen- 
eral, I  should  purposely  illustrate  my  points 
by  reference  to  other  ideals  than  that  of 
peace,  which  is  of  such  special  interest  to  us 
at  this  time.  This  intention  I  have  carried 
out ;  but  I  cannot  close  without  saying  a  word 
in  reference  to  this  noble  ideal. 

Our  consideration  of  the  general  nature  of 
our  ideals  must  show  us  that  the  special  ideal 


THE  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS  87 

of  peace  is  a  creation  of  our  own;  an  image 
of  what  is  not  now  found  in  Nature,  but 
which  we  long  to  put  into  Nature.  And  in 
this  very  recognition  of  our  creative  efficiency 
we  find  reason  to  hope  that  our  creativeness 
may  press  on  to  the  eventual  realisation  of 
this  ideal. 

But  this  same  consideration  has  also  led 
us  to  see  reason  why  we  should  not  allow 
ourselves  to  be  deceived  by  an  unintelligent 
optimism  that  refuses  to  look  the  facts  in 
the  face;  an  optimism  that  may  lead  to  the 
entertainment  of  hopes  which,  being  thwart- 
ed, yield  despair  and  pessimism.  We  see 
that  we  need  to  school  ourselves  to  courage 
if  we  are  to  realise  this  great  ideal. 

Of  all  this  we  shall  speak  in  detail  in  our 
next  chapter.  We  shall  then  find  ourselves 
led  to  believe  that  we  have  not  generally 
faced  the  facts :  that  many  of  those  who  long 
for  peace  have  indeed  been  irrationally  opti- 
mistic, and,  having  failed  to  appreciate  the 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  the  realisation  of  our 
ideal,  have  also  failed  to  take  those  steps 
that  alone  can  lead  to  success  in  our  effort  to 
this  end.  But  for  all  that  I  think  we  shall 


88   WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

also  see  that,  notwithstanding  many  discour- 
agements, we  have  good  ground  for  belief 
that  in  the  end  our  effort  will  avail,  and  that 
the  ideal  of  peace  will  be  realised;  and  shall 
discover  not  a  few  signs  that  this  realisation 
is  nearer  at  hand  than  many  are  inclined  to 
think. 

in 

Before  we  turn,  as  we  shall  now  do,  to  the 
attempt  to  apply  the  results  of  this  study  to 
the  special  problems  that  are  called  to  our 
attention  to-day,  it  may  be  well  to  summarise 
briefly  the  main  points  we  have  thus  far 
made. 

We  have  undertaken  to  consider  certain 
questions  that  are  forced  upon  our  attention 
in  connection  with  the  frequently  reiterated 
assertion  that  war,  being  a  product  of  Na- 
ture's inexorable  laws,  must  necessarily  recur 
from  time  to  time;  and  that  therefore  our 
ideal  of  peace  is  an  idle  dream. 

That  we  might  be  the  better  prepared  to 
judge  of  the  truth  in  this  matter  we  decided 
at  the  start  to  consider  first  what  we  really 
mean  when  we  state  that  we  are  governed 


THE  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS  89 

by  the  inexorable  laws  of  Nature,  one  of 
which  is  this  hypothetical  law  that  results  in 
recurrent  wars;  and  secondly  what  are  the 
characteristics  of  ideals  in  general,  one  of 
which  is  this  ideal  of  peace. 

When  we  asked  what  we  mean  by  saying 
that  we  are  governed  by  laws  of  Nature,  we 
were  at  once  thrown  back  to  a  still  more  fun- 
damental problem;  for  we  found  that  this 
meaning  must  be  determined  by  the  manner 
in  which  we  interpret  Nature.  We  therefore 
decided  to  inquire  at  the  start  how  Nature 
should  be  interpreted  to  meet  our  need. 

To  a  brief  study  of  this  question  we  de- 
voted our  introductory  chapter,  in  which  we 
were  led  to  see  that  we  can  gain  no  adequate 
conception  of  the  meaning  of  Nature's  laws 
unless  we  give  to  the  Universe  not  only  the 
naturalistic  interpretation  of  science,  but 
also  a  psychic  interpretation — an  interpreta- 
tion in  terms  of  mentality. 

Based  upon  this  preliminary  result  we  saw, 
in  our  second  chapter,  that  law  is  merely  a 
descriptive  term;  that  all  we  mean  when  we 
hold  that  we  are  governed  by  Nature's  laws 


90       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

is  that  we,  being  part  and  parcel  of  Nature, 
are  examplars  of  its  characteristics,  which 
when  carefully  formulated  we  call  its  laws. 
We  saw  that  we  are  not  slaves  to  laws  of 
Nature  that  are  extrinsic  to  us ;  but  that  our 
characteristics  go  to  determine  what  these 
laws  actually  are;  that  if  these  characteris- 
tics of  ours  change,  then  the  laws  of  Nature 
so  far  as  they  relate  to  man  must  themselves 
change. 

We  then  noted  that  one  of  these  character- 
istics of  ours  that  we  cannot  overlook  is 
the  very  marked  sense  of  our  own  creative 
spontaneity — of  our  sense  of  ability  to  mould 
Nature,  to  use  it  for  our  self-created  pur- 
poses. And  when  we  considered  the  essen- 
tial nature  of  this  characteristic  we  were  led 
to  the  conclusion  that  physical,  and  its  corre- 
sponding psychic,  creativeness  pervades  the 
whole  of  Nature;  and  that  this  sense  of  our 
own  creative  spontaneity  indicates  that  we 
have  real  efficiency  in  the  moulding  of  Na- 
ture, and  of  ourselves  as  parts  of  Nature: 
that  is  to  say,  real  efficiency  in  determining 
the  character  of  those  laws  which  define  the 
man. 


THE  CONFLICT  OF  IDEALS  91 

Turning  then,  in  this  chapter,  to  the  study 
of  the  characteristics  of  ideals  in  general,  of 
which  our  ideal  of  peace  is  a  special  example, 
we  have  seen  that  ideals  are  a  special  form 
of  ideas.  We  have  noted  that  while  an  enor- 
mous proportion  of  our  ideas  are  determined 
by  what  is  in  Nature,  and  by  relations  exist- 
ing between  the  objects  and  situations  in  Na- 
ture, it  is  of  the  very  essence  of  an  ideal  that 
it  is  an  image  of  a  situation  that  does  not 
exist  in  Nature.  An  ideal  is  in  fact  the  crea- 
tion of  what  is  new  to  Nature. 

We  thus  have  seen  that  in  the  very  exis- 
tence of  these  ideals  we  have  the  strongest 
possible  evidence  of  that  creative  efficiency 
which  our  studies  in  our  second  chapter  had 
led  us  to  assert,  and  that  this  evidence  is 
greatly  strengthened  by  the  fact  that  we  are 
occasionally  actually  able  to  realise  these 
ideals ;  i.e.,  to  force  them  upon  Nature  where 
they  would  not  exist  but  for  our  creative 
energy. 

Having  thus  prepared  ourselves,  we  may 
turn  to  the  special  problem  that  led  us  to 
make  these  preliminary  studies. 


PART  II 
THE  SPECIAL  PROBLEMS 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  LAW  OF  STEIFE  AND  THE  IDEAL 
OF  PEACE 


THE  studies  of  Part  I  were  undertaken  that 
we  might  be  the  better  prepared  to  decide  as 
to  the  validity  of  the  theory  that  war,  being  a 
resultant  of  Nature's  laws,  must  necessarily 
recur  from  time  to  time;  and  that  therefore 
our  ideal  of  universal  peace  can  never  be  real- 
ised. Turning  now  to  the  consideration  of  this 
problem,  we  are  met  at  the  start  by  a  question 
of  fact — the  question  whether  it  is  really  true 
that  war  results  from  a  law  of  Nature. 

The  law  of  Nature  referred  to  is  the  law 
of  inherited  instinct  which  it  is  held  leads 
man  to  fight  for  dominance.  We  may  then 
put  our  question  in  another  way,  asking 
whether  it  is  true  that  man  is  by  nature  a 
fighting  animal;  true  that  fighting  instincts 
are  given  to  him  by  inheritance,  and  that  the 
law  of  his  nature  compels  him  from  time  to 
time  to  wage  war. 

05 


96      WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

To  the  first  part  of  this  question  we  must 
at  once  give  an  affirmative  reply;  i.e.,  we 
must  agree  that  man  as  he  has  existed  so  far 
as  we  can  read  the  story  of  his  development 
has  been,  and  as  he  exists  to-day  still  is,  a 
fighting  animal ;  that  is  to  say,  that  he  has  in 
the  past  answered,  and  still  answers,  certain 
stimuli  by  the  immediate  reactions  which 
constitute  fighting. 

In  his  lowest  state  man  was  little  removed 
from  his  gorilla-like  cousins  who  have  left 
their  descendants  for  our  study.  We  see 
every  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  as  ready 
as  they  are  to  fight  his  neighbours  that  he 
might  gain  the  immediate  satisfaction  of  his 
needs  and  of  his  desires ;  and,  so  far  as  exist- 
ing savages  live  what  we  picture  to  have  been 
the  lives  of  primitive  men,  we  find  them  ex- 
emplifying these  same  characteristics. 

We  find  evidence,  too,  of  the  existence  of 
this  fighting  instinct  in  the  ordinary  men 
around  us.  Eemove  but  for  a  moment  the  re- 
straints given  in  our  civilised  lands  and  this 
tendency  is  likely  to  become  prominent  upon 
the  slightest  stimulation.  We  see  this  exem- 
plified in  the  lives  of  the  pioneer  and  adven- 


THE  LAW  OF  STRIFE  97 

turer  the  world  over:  in  that  of  the  cowboy 
of  the  far  West,  in  that  of  the  rubber  col- 
lector on  the  Amazon,  in  that  of  the  ivory 
trader  on  the  Congo. 

Then,  too,  the  prize-fighter  is  still  a  prom- 
inent person  in  our  community  taken  as  a 
whole ;  and  even  in  our  sports,  as  engaged  in 
by  " gentlemen  amateurs,"  we  find  it  neces- 
sary to  make  rigid  rules  to  prevent  the 
friendly  contest  from  developing  into  a  fierce 
struggle  for  individual  physical  dominance. 

But  man  gained  his  pre-eminent  position 
among  the  animals  mainly  through  his  ability 
to  form  co-operative  groups  working  to  com- 
mon ends ;  and  long  before  the  times  of  which 
anthropological  research  give  us  any  clear 
knowledge  man  had  turned  his  individualistic 
fighting  instincts  to  the  service  of  his  group 
or  clan.  That  is  to  say,  he  had  become  a 
warrior ;  giving  his  best  strength  to  co-opera- 
tive aggression  in  behalf  of  satisfactions  that 
could  not  be  won  by  him  as  an  individual  act- 
ing for  himself. 

It  may  be  well  to  note  here  that  together 
with  this  development  of  clan  co-operation  in 
fighting  as  a  member  of  a  group,  there  neces- 


98       WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

sarily  grew  up  the  tendency  in  the  individual 
in  a  given  clan  to  react  as  a  warrior  upon  the 
appearance  of  any  action  of  another  clan  that 
seemed  to  point  to  aggressive  intentions ;  and 
a  related  tendency  to  assume  an  aggressive 
attitude  whenever  there  appeared  any  chance 
of  gain  of  advantage  over  this  other  clan. 
This  carried  with  it  a  corresponding  general 
mental  attitude  which  is  the  basis  of  the  sen- 
timent of  patriotism,  of  which  very  primitive 
sentiment  we  shall  have  more  to  say  later. 

The  record  of  the  far-away  days  to  which 
we  have  just  referred  is  dim.  Late  dis- 
coveries have,  however,  enabled  us  to  go  back 
some  considerable  distance  in  time.  Where 
they  have  anything  like  a  clear  story  to  tell 
they  speak  of  complex  co-operative  com- 
munities that  can  only  have  been  the  develop- 
ment of  forms  of  life  of  like  kinds  that  had 
existed  in  less  complex  form  for  ages  before. 

Investigations  show  that  some  five  thou- 
sand years  ago  a  civilisation  of  this  type 
appeared  on  the  Babylonian  plains ;  we  know 
little  more  of  it  than  the  name  of  its  war-lord 
king,  who  described  himself  as  "the  mighty 
king  of  the  four  quarters,  the  subduer  of  nine 


THE  LAW  OF  STRIFE  99 

armies  in  one  year" :  that  was  the  basis  of  his 
recognition  as  a  world  figure.  Five  thousand 
years,  however,  is  but  a  short  span  in  the  his- 
tory of  man,  which,  as  we  now  read  it,  runs 
back  perhaps  hundreds  of  thousands  of  years. 
But  how  do  we  gain  this  knowledge  of  man's 
long  lineage  I  Mainly  through  excavated  re- 
mains, which  are  in  large  part  more  or  less 
crude  fighting  implements. 

In  the  later  all  but  prehistoric  epochs  we 
see  the  same  evidence  of  man's  fighting  ten- 
dencies. The  great  poem  of  the  Greeks — the 
Iliad  of  Homer — spoke  for  the  people  of  the 
time.  It  would  scarcely  have  been  written 
but  for  the  spontaneous  tendency  of  the  poet 
to  see  in  war  the  most  glorious  of  all  man's 
effort.  Nor  do  we  have  to  look  so  far  back. 
The  noblest  of  the  Greeks,  and  even  of 
modern  Idealists,  have  condoned,  if  they 
have  not  glorified,  war ;  and  in  our  own  time 
Nietzsche,  speaking  for  not  a  few  thinking 
men,  and  in  terms  of  modern  scientific  con- 
ceptions, has  asked  us  to  look  upon  war  as  a 
powerful  aid  to  human  advancement. 

What  we  usually  think  of  as  history  is  but 


100     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

a  record  of  war  following  upon  war ;  and  the 
fact  that  we  teach  the  young  to-day  to  look 
upon  this  record  as  the  essence  of  history  in- 
dicates that  man's  central  interest  in  his 
forebears  still  is  the  prowess  of  those  who 
have  been  victors  in  war. 

Yes ;  we  must  grant  that  man  is  by  nature 
a  fighting  animal.  "The  state  of  peace  be- 
tween men  who  live  near  one  another,"  Im- 
manuel  Kant  goes  so  far  as  to  say,*  "is  not 
the  state  of  nature.  The  natural  state  is 
rather  one  of  war."  This  statement  is  in- 
deed too  broad  to  be  strictly  accurate;  for 
under  certain  conditions  the  stimuli  which 
lead  to  the  instinctive  reaction  may  be  lack- 
ing, and  then  the  fighting  propensities  of  the 
man,  or  nation,  will  not  be  evidenced.  Such 
exceptional  cases,  however,  do  not  take  from 
the  weight  of  the  evidence  going  to  show 
that  deeply  imbedded  in  man's  nature  are 
instincts  that  lead  him  to  fight;  to  fight 
as  an  individual,  and  to  fight  with  others  of 
his  kind  in  groups. 

We  are  led  to  overlook  this  fact  that  war 
is  based  upon  man's  instinctive  fighting  ten- 

*  "Perpetual  Peace,"  Introduction  to  Second  Section. 


THE  LAW  OF  STRIFE  101 

dencies  by  the  complexity  of  the  modern 
fighting  machine,  and  the  equal  complexity  of 
the  governmental  processes  which  nowadays 
culminate  in  the  initiation  of  war.  The  early 
man  invented  crude  weapons  which  he  him- 
self handled  to  serve  his  direct  hostile  pur- 
pose. The  modern  man  has  devised  methods 
of  warfare  on  a  grand  scale  which  involve 
the  use  of  men  as  parts  of  the  complex 
weapon.  So  the  personal  initiation  of  attack 
has  given  place  to  action  under  the  command 
of  officers  who  treat  the  individual  men  as 
their  agents ;  and  these  officers  are  subject  to 
control  from  those  still  higher  in  position, 
who  direct  the  beginnings  and  the  processes 
of  the  fighting.  But  behind  it  all  lies  the  ten- 
dency of  the  individual  to  fight,  complicated 
enormously  and  masked  by  the  fact  that  he 
has  acquired  a  willingness  to  be  guided  by 
the  judgment  of  others  as  to  the  best  mode 
of  gaming  the  victory. 

If,  then,  it  is  true  that  man  is  by  nature  a 
fighting  animal,  true  that  instinctive  tenden- 
cies lead  him  to  fight  automatically  when  cer- 
tain stimuli  are  given,  then  also  it  is  apparent 


102     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

that,  if  our  ideal  of  peace  is  to  be  realised, 
man  must  in  some  respects  be  virtually  re- 
created, so  that  he  will  no  longer  give  ex- 
pression to  those  instincts  of  his  in  such  man- 
ner as  lead  us  to  describe  him  as  a  fighting 
animal.  The  question  is  thus  at  once  raised 
whether  this  is  possible. 

We  are  told  by  the  biologist  that  nothing  is 
more  stubborn  than  an  animal's  inherited  in- 
stincts; that  their  eradication,  if  it  ever  oc- 
curs completely,  is  so  rare  that  we  may  say 
in  general  that  an  instinct  once  acquired  by 
a  race  must  remain  part  of  its  heritage. 

We  are  then  told,  by  those  whose  conten- 
tions we  are  considering,  that  as  man  is  an 
animal  in  whom  fighting  instincts  exist,  war 
must  from  time  to  time  recur,  because  man 
is  governed  by  these  instincts,  which  are  laws 
of  his  nature. 

But  here  our  study  in  our  second  chapter 
leads  us  to  pause;  for  we  recall  what  we 
there  saw  to  be  the  true  meaning  we  express 
when  we  speak  of  man  as  being  governed  by 
Nature's  laws.  We  do  not  hesitate  to  agree 
that  man  has  within  him  instinctive  tenden- 
cies that  lead  him  to  fight;  but  we  see  that 


THE  LAW  OF  STRIFE  103 

all  we  can  mean  by  saying  that  he  is  gov- 
erned by  this  law  of  instinct  is  that  he  ex- 
emplifies in  his  normal  activities  certain 
characteristics  of  his  race — that  these  fight- 
ing instincts  are  part  of  his  equipment. 

Moreover,  our  earlier  studies  have  taught 
us  also  that  this  acknowledgment  does  not 
carry  with  it  the  implication  that  man  is  a 
slave  to  laws  extrinsic  to  him.  It  has  taught 
us  that  if  man's  instinctive  tendencies  could 
in  any  manner  be  inhibited  or  modified,  so 
that  he  came  to  display  other  characteristics 
than  those  observed  in  the  present  expression 
of  these  inborn  instincts,  then  the  law  of  his 
nature  would  in  that  very  fact  be  changed. 
We  are  thus  led  to  ask  whether  the  biologist 
finds  evidence  that  an  animal's  instincts  can 
be  thus  changed  in  mode  of  expression;  and 
to  this  question  we  find  an  affirmative  reply. 

The  biologist  speaks  to  us  somewhat  as 
follows.  Although  new  racial  characteristics 
have  very  rarely,  if  ever,  been  gained  by  the 
obliteration  of  instincts,  changes  in  racial 
characteristics  have  not  infrequently  oc- 
curred as  the  result  of  the  control,  rather 
than  the  loss,  of  these  inherited  instincts. 


104     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

This  control  may  become  effective  in  either 
one  of  two  ways:  first,  by  the  thwarting,  or 
inhibition,  of  the  expression  of  the  instincts ; 
or  secondly,  by  the  turning  of  its  expression 
to  other  uses  than  that  which  originally  re- 
sulted in  its  fixation. 

As  an  example  of  the  thwarting  of  the  ex- 
pression of  an  instinct  we  may  take  the  func- 
tioning of  the  sexual  instinct,  which,  as  we 
see  it  in  the  animals  in  general,  has  been  in- 
hibited in  the  human  animal  by  the  habits  ac- 
quired by  man  as  he  has  risen  in  the  scale. 
So  the  instinct  that  guides  the  greedy  dog  in 
the  presence  of  food,  is  an  instinct  that  we 
men  have  also ;  but  in  us  it  has  been  inhibited 
by  the  customs  we  speak  of  as  politeness. 

This  mode  of  change — that  of  the  mere 
chaining  of  the  instinctive  tendency — is  sub- 
ject to  one  great  difficulty.  The  chain  may 
by  chance  be  broken;  the  inhibition  may  be 
removed;  then  the  natural  instinctive  ten- 
dency at  once  shows  itself.  Remove  the  re- 
straints of  civilised  society  but  a  little,  and 
manifestations  of  the  sexual  instinct  of  our 
race  appear  in  forms  that  are  not  far  re- 
moved from  those  observed  in  the  animal. 


THE  LAW  OF  STRIFE  105 

Place  a  man  under  conditions  of  starvation 
and  he  shows  himself  as  greedy  as  the  dog. 

The  second  mode  of  change — that  of  the 
transference  of  functioning  of  the  instincts 
into  new  channels — meets  this  special  diffi- 
culty :  for  it  does  not  depend  upon  the  chain- 
ing of  the  instinct.  It  actually  makes  use  of 
the  instinct.  And  the  more  important  to  the 
race  the  newer  reference  of  the  instinct's 
functioning  turns  out  to  be,  the  more  certain 
is  it  to  displace  the  original  reference.  If  the 
new  mode  of  functioning  brings  marked  ad- 
vantage that  is  lost  by  reversion  to  the  ear- 
lier manifestation  of  the  instinct,  so  that  such 
reversion  to  this  earlier  manifestation  is  a 
detriment  to  the  race,  then  the  change  is 
likely  to  become  a  permanent  one. 

No  better  example  of  this  second  mode  of 
change  of  an  instinct's  functioning  can  be 
found  than  in  the  very  existence  of  war  it- 
self. The  basic  instinct  is  one  that  led  the 
savage  man  to  fight  to  protect  himself,  or  to 
gain  something  for  himself  by  aggressive  at- 
tack. War  has  come  into  being  as  the  result 
of  a  transfer  of  the  functioning  of  this  in- 
stinct, which  at  first  had  only  an  individual- 


106     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

istic  reference,  so  that  it  has  come  to  have  a 
clan  or  national  reference.  The  early  man 
found  he  could  not  have  success  as  an  indi- 
vidual unless  he  joined  with  his  fellow-men  in 
defence  and  aggression ;  and  that  meant  war. 

And  note  that  this  transfer  of  reference  of 
the  expression  of  this  fighting  instinct  soon 
became  so  important  to  the  race  that  rever- 
sion to  its  primal  individualistic  reference 
had  to  be  inhibited.  Aggressive  attack  by  an 
individual  upon  another  of  his  own  clan  or 
nation  necessarily  tended  to  weaken  the  so- 
cial unit,  and  to  reduce  its  strength  in  its 
protective  and  aggressive  wars;  and  thus 
such  attacks  by  individuals  came  to  be  dis- 
countenanced, and  finally  in  large  measure 
repressed. 

Here,  it  will  be  observed,  the  fighting  in- 
stinct of  the  individual  has  not  been  oblit- 
erated; it  has  not  even  been  bound  with 
chains ;  but  its  modes  of  expression  have  been 
altered  to  have  racial  significance;  and  to 
have  so  great  a  significance  in  this  new  rela- 
tion that  reversion  to  its  primary  form  of  ex- 
pression has  become  a  serious  obstacle  to  ra- 
cial advance. 


THE  LAW  OF  STRIFE  107 

Now  if  this  has  happened  in  the  past,  it 
certainly  may  happen  in  the  future;  and  in 
new  directions.  We  cannot  hope  to  obliterate 
the  instinct  that  leads  the  individual  to  fight ; 
but  we  surely  may  hope  for  the  appearance 
of  some  new  modes  of  action  by  which  this  in- 
stinct may  gain  expressions  that  do  not  in- 
volve war.  And  we  may  hope  that  these  new 
modes  of  expression  may  become  so  signifi- 
cant to  the  race  of  man  that  any  reversion  to 
the  original  expression  in  the  fighting  be- 
tween individuals,  or  to  the  secondary  ex- 
pression in  the  combined  fighting  of  war,  will 
of  necessity  be  abandoned. 

So  it  appears  after  all  that,  although  in- 
stincts can  rarely  if  ever  be  obliterated, 
their  manifestations  may  be  so  altered  as  to 
give  the  animal  quite  new  characteristics. 
And  this  means  that  if  the  characteristics 
which  we  describe  as  the  expression  of  man's 
fighting  instincts  could  be  so  changed  that 
these  expressions  were  inhibited,  or  turned 
into  quite  new  channels,  the  man  would  no 
longer  be  describable  as  a  fighting  animal. 

The  biologist  tells  us  that  such  changes  in 
the  mode  of  functioning  of  animal  instincts 


108     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

as  have  been  thus  referred  to  usually  come 
into  existence  by  the  very  slow  process  of 
non-intelligent  adaptation,  often  at  least  due 
to  the  struggle  for  persistence.  But  it  is 
evident  that  such  changes  may  become  estab- 
lished much  more  quickly  as  the  result  of  in- 
telligent effort  to  bring  them  about.  For  we 
have  seen  in  our  second  chapter  that  we  have 
in  our  intelligence  a  sign  of  real  creativeness 
which  involves  the  modification  of  typical 
forms  of  activity ;  and  this  again  involves  the 
ability  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  inhibition 
of  our  instincts,  or  in  the  transfer  of  their 
functioning  into  new  channels. 

The  first  indication  in  our  conscious  life  of 
any  tendency  to  inhibit  or  modify  the  func- 
tioning of  any  instinct  or  habit  must  appear 
in  the  form  of  a  dislike  of,  a  revulsion  from, 
the  resultants  of  this  functioning;  and  in  the 
creation  of  an  ideal  of  functioning  that  shall 
avoid  the  discomforts  attendant  upon  this  re- 
vulsion. And  when  such  an  ideal  has  once 
been  gained  it  is  possible,  as  we  have  seen, 
that  the  characteristics  of  Nature  may  be 
changed  by  our  creative  efficiency  through 


THE  LAW  OF  STRIFE  109 

the  devising  of  means  looking  to  the  realisa- 
tion of  the  ideal. 

It  is  clear,  of  course,  that  the  process  thus 
described  may  be  applicable  to  the  instinctive 
tendencies  of  man  that  make  for  war.  And 
as  a  matter  of  fact  we  have  the  clearest  evi- 
dence that  this  process  is  developing  in  con- 
nection with  these  special  instincts;  for  we 
men  and  women  in  these  later  times  are  re- 
pelled by  the  results  of  the  functioning  of 
these  fighting  instincts,  and  have  created  an 
ideal  of  functioning  that  shall  avoid  the  dis- 
comforts attendant  upon  this  repulsion.  We 
have  created  the  ideal  of  peace,  the  concep- 
tion of  a  condition  that  is  not  now  realised  in 
Nature,  but  which  we  think  of  as  possible  of 
realisation. 

But  we  have  seen  in  the  preceding  chapter 
that  the  very  existence  of  an  ideal  is  indica- 
tive of  a  tendency,  on  the  part  of  the  man 
who  entertains  it,  to  modify  his  characteris- 
tic activities.  Thus  it  appears  that  we  have 
in  the  very  existence  of  this  ideal  of  peace 
the  evidence  that  we  may  look  for  a  change 
in  man's  nature,  the  result  of  which  will  be 


110     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

that  we  shall  no  longer  be  warranted  in  de- 
scribing him  as  a  fighting  animal. 

We  are  now  able,  I  think,  to  perceive  the 
advantage  of  our  mode  of  approach.  It  has 
enabled  us  to  see  that  we  do  not  need  to  be 
crushed  by  despair  when  we  view  the  facts 
that  tell  us  without  any  measure  of  doubt 
that  war  is  the  outcome  of  inherited  tenden- 
cies which  cannot  be  eliminated.  It  has  en- 
abled us  to  see  that  we  are  not  bound  on  this 
account  to  assume  an  attitude  of  pessimism 
in  relation  to  this  matter  of  such  deep  con- 
cern to  us,  but  rather  that  the  very  existence 
of  the  ideal  of  peace  is  an  indication  that  we 
who  entertain  it  are  ourselves  now  engaged 
in  an  effort  to  recreate  man  so  that  he  may 
no  longer  be  properly  described  as  a  fighting 
animal. 

We  are  led  thus,  it  seems  to  me,  to  assume 
once  for  all  an  optimistic  attitude  in  regard 
to  the  eventual  realisation  of  this  ideal  of 
peace. 

It  may  be  well  for  us  to  pause  here  to  say 
a  word  of  those  who  ask  us  to  see  in  the  crea- 
tion of  this  ideal  of  peace  a  sign  of  deteriora- 


THE  LAW  OF  STRIFE  111 

tion;  who  tell  us  that  war  is  in  itself  not  an 
evil  but  a  good. 

I  do  not  refer  here  to  the  question  raised 
as  to  the  priority  of  the  ideal  of  peace  in  the 
moral  scale,  which  we  shall  consider  later ;  a 
question  which  leads  some  to  hold  that,  as 
death  is  preferable  to  the  quiescent  abandon- 
ment of  an  individual's  ideals,  so  war  gains 
a  high  moral  quality  when  it  is  waged  to 
oppose  oppression  or  aggression.  I  refer 
to  those  who  tell  us  that  war  is  necessary  to 
the  advance  of  man,  who  but  for  war  would 
lose  his  virility  and  tendency  to  higher  devel- 
opment ;  that  those  who  wish  for  peace  make 
up  a  decadent  part  of  the  human  race. 

Those  who  take  this  position  are  able  to 
call  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  existence 
of  an  instinctive  tendency  in  any  animal  is  in 
general  a  proof  that  the  expressions  of  the 
instinct  have  had  value  to  its  race  in  the 
past ;  and  this  must  of  course  be  granted.  It 
must  be  agreed  that  warlike  activities  have 
had  their  values  to  the  race  of  man  in  the 
course  of  his  development. 

But  when  they  tell  us  that  this  carries  with 
it  proof  that  the  warlike  expressions  are  still 


112     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

of  value  to  human  kind,  and  cannot  be  elimi- 
nated without  racial  deterioration,  we  are 
led  to  pause.  For  we  see  that  the  nature  of 
environmental  conditions  is  as  important  a 
factor  in  relation  to  animal  persistence  and 
advance  as  is  the  nature  of  the  animal's  in- 
herited tendencies  to  action.  If  the  condi- 
tions change,  instinctive  activities  of  a  cer- 
tain kind  that  have  been  advantageous  may 
well  become  altogether  disadvantageous.  The 
predatory  instincts  of  the  lion,  for  instance, 
which  have  led  it  to  attack  large  animals, 
have  been  of  value  to  it  in  the  past;  but  as 
they  have  led  it  to  attack  man  among  other 
animals,  they  are  now  resulting  in  the  exter- 
mination of  its  kind. 

It  is  fair,  then,  to  ask  whether  it  may  not 
be  true  that,  in  the  case  of  man,  the  condi- 
tions of  life  have  changed  so  materially  since 
the  times  when  his  instinctive  fighting  ten- 
dencies were  formed,  that  these  same  ten- 
dencies are  no  longer  of  advantage  to  him. 
And  if  we  consider  the  enormous  advances 
made  by  man  through  friendly  co-operation, 
in  the  relatively  short  period  of  his  existence 
of  which  we  have  his  racial  record,  we  must 


THE  LAW  OF  STRIFE  113 

agree  that  there  is  at  least  a  high  degree  of 
probability  that  such  material  changes  in 
the  conditions  of  human  life  have  occurred. 

Those  who  take  the  position  here  con- 
sidered, although  forced  to  agree  to  the  pos- 
sibility that  such  a  change  of  conditions  may 
have  reduced  the  value  of  war,  nevertheless 
deny  its  probability.  They  ask  us  to  review 
the  historic  record,  and  to  note  that  eras  of 
great  warlike  activity  have  also  been  eras  of 
great  cultural  activity;  pointing  us  to  the 
accomplishments  of  the  Greeks  in  their 
prime,  for  instance ;  and  to  those  of  the  Ital- 
ians in  the  tumultuous  age  of  the  Renais- 
sance. And  they  argue  that  the  human  qual- 
ities involved  in  the  two  forms  of  activity 
are  necessarily  inter-related. 

Surely  it  would  be  difficult  to  conjure  up 
any  more  preposterously  unscientific  conten- 
tions than  are  involved  in  such  an  argument. 
Those  who  present  them  are  obsessed  by  the 
false  reading  of  history  that  contents  itself 
with  tales  of  great  battles.  They  ask  us  to 
forget  that  at  the  times  to  which  they  refer 
wars  were  well  nigh  universal,  so  that  such 
culture  as  arose  must  of  necessity  have  ap- 


114     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

peared  in  close  relation  with  vigorous  war- 
like activities. 

They  ask  us,  too,  to  overlook  the  fact  that 
but  a  minimum  of  the  peoples  that  have  been 
conquerors  in  bitter  war  have  displayed  ten- 
dencies looking  to  the  advance  of  culture,  as 
would  certainly  not  have  been  the  case  had 
war  been  essential  to  this  advance.  They 
would  have  us  forget  the  sudden  obliteration 
of  such  a  highly  developed  civilisation  as 
that  of  Crete,  for  instance,  as  the  result  of 
war. 

Did  not  this  mere  statement  of  fact  suffice, 
the  horrors  of  the  present  war  are  perhaps 
in  themselves  an  adequate  answer  to  any 
such  theory.  A  race  could  surely  not  be  said 
to  be  advancing,  in  any  noble  sense,  that 
found  its  successive  steps  necessarily  leading 
it  through  such  seas  of  blood,  and  leaving 
in  its  train  such  depths  of  misery. 

But  beyond  this  there  is  no  adequate  evi- 
dence whatever  to  support  the  view  that  ra- 
cial virility  is  bound  up  with  warlike  abilities. 
A  large  part  of  the  greatest  advances  of  our 
modern  life  have  been  initiated  by  men  whose 
bodily  infirmities  would  have  rendered  them 


THE  LAW  OF  STRIFE  115 

useless  in  battle;  and  on  the  other  hand  a 
large  proportion  of  the  fighting  class  are  too 
dull  and  stupid  to  lead  us  to  believe  them 
capable  of  bringing  about  any  advance  in  ra- 
cial accomplishment. 

These  and  like  arguments  of  the  apologists 
for  war  leave  us  unconvinced  as  to  the  valid- 
ity of  their  contentions;  so  we  may  assume, 
without  further  argument,  that  permanent 
peace,  could  it  be  maintained,  would  be  a 
good;  that  our  ideal  of  peace  is  a  worthy 
ideal. 

n 

We  have  thus  seen  reason  to  hold  that  it  is 
rational  to  assume  an  optimistic  attitude 
in  regard  to  the  eventual  realisation  of 
this  ideal  of  peace.  But  in  the  preceding 
chapter  we  have  found  our  attention  called 
to  the  dangers  of  an  optimism  that  re- 
fuses to  face  the  facts;  an  irrational  opti- 
mism that  tends  to  be  replaced  by  the  most 
hopeless  pessimism  when  the  facts  are  forced 
upon  our  attention. 

Now  is  it  not  true  that  we,  as  pacifists, 
have  been  irrational  in  our  optimism?  Have 


116     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

we  really  faced  the  facts?  I  do  not  think  we 
have. 

One  of  the  most  persistent  of  errors  is 
found  in  the  common  notion  that  the  conduct 
of  man  is,  in  the  main,  governed  by  intelli- 
gence. The  modern  psychologist  warns  us 
against  this  error.  He  shows  us,  as  James 
put  it,  that  man  displays  more  instincts  than 
any  other  animal.  He  begs  us  to  note  that  a 
relatively  small  proportion  of  our  activities 
are  based  upon  rational  guidance;  that  we 
are  for  the  most  part  carried  forward  to  our 
modes  of  action  by  forces  which  we  make  no 
effort  whatever  to  control  intelligently. 

It  seems  to  me  that  most  of  our  pacifists 
overlook  this  fact.  They  assume  that  the 
appeal  to  reason  will  in  itself  suffice  to  lead 
men  to  abandon  war;  that  it  will  disappear 
if  men  can  be  brought  to  see  that  it  is  ir- 
rational. This  conviction  of  unreasonable- 
ness, and  the  sentiment  in  opposition  to  war 
that  it  yields,  are  significant;  but  it  is  clear 
that  the  fighting  proclivities  of  men  can  only 
be  curbed  by  positive  control.  This  will  in- 
deed involve  the  guidance  of  intelligence; 
but  if  this  guidance  is  to  prove  effective  it 


IRRATIONAL  OPTIMISM  117 

must  be  aimed  at  the  roots  of  the  trouble,  at 
the  removal  of  the  stimuli  which  serve  to 
arouse  the  functioning  of  the  instinctive  ten- 
dencies ;  must  be  aimed  at  the  removal  of  sus- 
picion and  hatred  towards  others. 

One  finds  running  through  the  writings  of 
the  pacifists  the  assumption  that  if  we  could 
but  bring  to  the  attention  of  the  common 
people  a  comprehension  of  the  mere  stupidity 
of  war,  they  would  be  reasonable  enough  to 
oppose  their  leaders  in  their  policies  that 
lead  to  hostile  action.  I  myself  think  this 
more  than  doubtful.  Consider,  for  instance, 
the  all  but  complete  loyalty  of  the  Social 
Democrats  in  Germany  notwithstanding  their 
avowed  convictions  as  to  the  criminality  of 
war. 

Again,  we  find  the  pacifist  assuming  that 
the  ruling  classes  among  the  nations  that 
now  contend  for  mastery  have  been  led  to 
make  war  by  clearly  formulated  conceptions 
of  national  need.  I  myself  think  this  equally 
doubtful.  On  the  contrary,  governing  pow- 
ers as  a  rule  appear  to  initiate  war  under 
pressure  that  blinds  them;  the  policies  they 
proclaim  being  for  the  most  part  invented  to 


118     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

justify  positions  already  taken,  which  they 
really  begin  to  suspect  are  unjustifiable. 

All  will  agree  that  it  is  the  commonest 
thing  for  man,  in  his  pride  of  intellect,  to 
boast  that  he  has  been  moved  to  his  con- 
duct by  rational  principles,  when  in  reality 
these  " principles"  are  invented  in  order  that 
he  may  persuade  himself  and  others  that 
actions  he  has  taken  without  forethought  are 
worthy  of  a  reasonable  being.  This  habit 
of  thought  too  often  leads  the  members  of  our 
Governments  to  persuade  themselves  that 
they  wage  war  in  accord  with  reasoned-out 
policies,  when  they  really  allow  themselves  to 
be  dominated  by  passions  and  ambitions ;  the 
policies  being  invented  after  the  fact  for  the 
purpose  of  sustaining  hate  in  themselves  and 
in  the  people  they  govern,  and  of  gaining 
satisfaction  in  the  encouragement  of  these 
hates,  which,  but  for  the  complexity  of  mod- 
ern life,  would  have  brought  war  long  before 
the  policies  were  thought  of. 

We  have  a  good  illustration  of  this,  in  the 
case  of  the  present  war,  in  the  contention  of 
the  Germans  that  the  belligerent  feeling  ini- 
tiating the  present  catastrophe  was  based 


IRRATIONAL  OPTIMISM  119 

upon  efforts  by  their  enemies  to  thwart  their 
legitimate  commercial  expansion ;  and  this  in 
the  face  of  the  fact  that  their  trade  during 
the  last  forty  years  has  increased  by  leaps 
and  bounds  in  the  very  markets  that  they 
claim  are  "controlled"  by  those  with  whom 
they  are  now  at  war. 

But  even  if  we  assume  that  the  masses  of 
men  are  able  to  think  as  clearly  as  is  com- 
monly supposed  possible,  we  must  not  allow 
ourselves  to  overlook  the  fact  that  even 
among  the  civilised  races  the  number  of  those 
who  cling  to  this  ideal  of  peace  and  interna- 
tional good  will,  is  to-day  but  a  small  minor- 
ity. And  this  minority  is  within  races  which 
themselves  form  but  a  minority  of  the  races 
of  the  earth  as  a  whole. 

If  we  look  upon  the  Christian  religion  as 
the  embodiment  of  "peace  on  earth,  good  will 
toward  men,"  then  we  are  bound  to  agree 
that  Christianity  has  scarcely  yet  begun  to 
be  established,  even  among  those  nations 
that  profess  to  be  guided  by  the  teaching  of 
Christ.  Not  until  we  have  been  able  to  im- 
press upon  a  large  proportion  of  men  the 


120  WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

value  of  this  ideal  of  peace,  ought  we  to  ex- 
pect to  find  anything  approaching  complete 
success  in  our  effort  towards  its  realisation. 

Led,  as  we  so  generally  are,  by  this  erro- 
neous belief  that  man's  acts  are  in  the  main 
governed  by  reason,  we  all  too  easily  over- 
look the  full  significance  of  the  fact  that  his 
acts  are  really  in  the  main  instinctive.  We 
have  disregarded,  for  instance,  the  fact  that 
man  fights  instinctively,  and  have  persistent- 
ly assumed  that  his  tendencies  to  fight  can 
be  without  difficulty  obliterated  if  we  once 
set  about  the  task  with  full  determination. 
We  have  blinded  ourselves  to  the  significance 
in  this  connection  of  the  fact  that  as  a  very 
general  rule  instincts  once  given  are  not  lost ; 
but  that  new  and  usually  more  elaborate  in- 
stincts are  built  up,  so  to  speak,  out  of  the 
material  furnished  by  the  already  existing 
instincts. 

Then,  again,  we  cling  without  careful  con- 
sideration to  the  notion  that  the  deeply  em- 
bedded characteristics  of  mankind  may  be 
quickly  changed.  But  the  studies  of  the  bi- 
ologist prove  to  us  conclusively  that  on  the 
whole  changes  of  racial  habit  are  exceedingly 


IRRATIONAL  OPTIMISM  121 

slow.  Even  if  we  assume  with  a  certain 
school  that  relatively  radical  "mutations" 
may  arise  and  become  a  part  of  the  equipment 
of  the  race,  we  must  agree  that  such  relative- 
ly radical  changes  occur  but  rarely,  and  do 
not  often  involve  alterations  that  are  more 
than  relatively  radical. 

Bearing  this  in  mind,  we  then  note  that  the 
ideal  of  peace  that  is  held  to  be  embodied  in 
the  teachings  of  Christ  is  one  that  appears  to 
have  been  given  to  man  but  a  moment  ago,  if 
we  read  the  history  of  our  race  as  it  is  told 
to  us  by  modern  science.  How,  then,  can  we 
look  for  a  marked  change  in  man's  character- 
istic behaviour,  which  must  correspond  with 
this  new  mental  attitude,  in  the  course  of  a 
few  thousand  years  f  Most  men  of  maturity 
are  able  to  view  the  lives  of  five  generations, 
from  their  grandparents  to  their  grandchil- 
dren; and  it  does  not  occur  to  them  that  in 
that  lapse  of  time  through  five  generations 
any  change  whatever  has  taken  place  in  hu- 
man nature.  Yet  five  generations  of  men  is 
approximately  one  whole  twelfth  of  the  num- 
ber of  generations  of  thirty-three  years  each 
that  have  come  and  gone  since  the  birth  of 


122     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

Christ.  Why,  then,  should  we  assume,  as  we 
commonly  do,  that  marked  changes  in  man's 
nature  may  have  occurred  in  that  relatively 
short  period  of  his  racial  life? 

Yes;  when  we  face  the  facts  we  see  that 
these  fighting  instincts  are  still  in  our  blood, 
and  are  only  restrained  by  the  artificial 
modes  of  control  that  make  civilisation  what 
it  is ;  and  but  imperfectly  controlled  even  by 
them.  For  this  civilisation  is  in  the  very  na- 
ture of  the  case  but  skin  deep;  leaving  us, 
when  relieved  from  its  restraints,  ever  ready 
to  fall  back  into  savagery.  This  fact  we 
have  too  carelessly  overlooked.  We  have  no 
right  to  expect  that  effort  of  ours  can  re- 
create the  fighting  man  in  any  short  period. 

Beyond  this  we  have  failed  to  appreciate 
the  very  important  fact  that  racial  instincts 
can  only  be  modified  in  their  functioning  by 
habits  of  control  gained  by  individuals.  Had 
we  kept  this  in  mind  we  should  have  used 
every  effort  to  bind  with  stronger  chains,  or 
to  direct  into  new  channels  of  expression, 
the  fighting  instincts  as  they  develop  in  the 
individual  human  being. 

Far  from  discouraging  these  natural  ten- 


IRRATIONAL  OPTIMISM  123 

dencies,  however,  we  encourage  them  by  the 
admiration  we  bestow  upon  the  fighters  of 
the  world — men  like  Cassar  and  Napoleon. 
More  than  that,  we  encourage  the  young  of 
the  fighting  sex,  in  their  very  sports,  to  ri- 
valries that  strengthen  these  fighting  in- 
stincts. Again,  while  we  teach  the  youth  that 
it  is  a  noble  thing  to  control  his  sexual  in- 
stincts, few  of  us  think  to  teach  him  that  it  is 
an  equally  noble  thing  to  control  his  fighting 
instincts.  It  is  the  commonest  thing  to  hear 
parents  urging  their  boys  to  be  brave,  and 
not  to  hesitate  to  fight  with  their  companions. 
What  wonder,  then,  that  once  in  a  genera- 
tion or  so,  those  whose  combative  tendencies 
have  been  thus  developed,  and  who  have  not 
felt  the  horrors  of  war,  should  be  found  in 
the  majority,  and  should  lead  the  minority  to 
bloody  strife. 

All  will  agree  that  the  surest  way  to  con- 
trol an  instinctive  tendency  is  found  in  the 
avoidance  of  the  stimulus  that  usually 
arouses  its  expression.  But  we  have  failed 
to  face  the  fact  that  the  stimulus  that  most 
often  leads  to  an  outbreak  of  the  functioning 


124  WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

of  the  individual's  fighting  instinct  is  given 
in  the  pressure  of  the  still  deeper  instinct 
that  leads  the  man  to  covet,  and  to  strive  to 
obtain  for  himself  the  possessions  of  others. 

Deeply  rooted  in  human  nature  this  cov- 
etousness  truly  is.  But  that  it  may  be  curbed 
is  seen  in  the  very  fact  that  social  com- 
munities have  developed ;  for  they  could  not 
exist  but  for  the  control  of  this  instinctive 
tendency.  We  have  blinded  ourselves,  how- 
ever, to  the  fact  that  if  we  would  root  out  war 
this  covetousness  of  the  individual  must  also 
be  controlled  in  relation  to  what  belongs  to 
other  social  communities  than  his  own.  We 
have  not  combated  with  full  conviction  the 
commercial  exploitation  of  the  weaker  peo- 
ples. 

Nor  do  we  attempt  to  break  down  the  very 
primitive  tendency  which  leads  the  individual 
to  be  ready  to  attribute  aggressive  intentions 
to  other  clans  than  his  own.  We  do  not  make 
strenuous  effort,  as  we  should,  to  avoid  the 
attribution  of  evil  intention  to  other  peoples. 
We  do  not  attempt  to  crush  out  suspicion, 
which  leads  to  unwarranted  hates,  which 
must  usually  end  in  war.  Nor  do  we  endea- 


IRRATIONAL  OPTIMISM  125 

vour  to  repress  the  present  form  of  the  very 
primitive  tendency  of  the  average  man  to  act 
aggressively  against  another  clan  when  he 
sees  in  such  action  advantage  to  his  own  clan. 
We  still  encourage  a  morbid  patriotism.  We 
are  too  often  led  by,  and  in  fact  not  seldom 
hear  expressed  without  any  adequate  revul- 
sion of  feeling,  the  sentiment,  "My  country, 
right  or  wrong." 

In  my  view  we  shall  never  be  able  to  realise 
our  ideal  of  peace  until  we  strike  at  the  very 
roots  of  war:  until  we  keep  clearly  in  mind 
that  our  efforts  must  be  directed  towards  the 
control  of  the  fighting  instincts  of  the  human 
individual,  and  of  all  that  tends  to  stimulate 
its  expression  in  the  individual.  The  arma- 
ments of  the  Governments  are  built  to  satisfy 
the  individual  that  he  has  weapons  at  his 
command  that  he  himself  could  not  construct. 

It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  merely  because  our 
pacifists  have  been  thus  irrational  in  their 
optimism  that  so  many  of  them  are  brought 
to  the  verge  of  despair  by  this  present  war. 
But  surely  its  occurrence  really  gives  us  no 
good  reason  to  adopt  a  pessimistic  attitude  in 


126     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

regard  to  the  realisation  of  our  ideal  of 
peace.  Were  our  field  of  vision  no  wider 
than  that  of  our  ancestors  of  but  a  few  hun- 
dred years  ago,  it  might  appear  reasonable 
to  abandon  in  relation  to  this  ideal  the 
attitude  of  rational  optimism  defended  in 
our  preceding  chapter.  But  we  have  gained 
a  broader  outlook,  and  one  that  enables  us  to 
resolve  to  press  on  with  renewed  courage  to- 
wards the  attainment  of  our  ideal.  We  see 
indeed  that  we  have  allowed  our  hope  of  its 
speedy  realisation  to  blind  us  to  certain  facts 
that  should  have  been  impressed  upon  us  by 
the  very  lessons  we  have  learned  in  connec- 
tion with  this  gain  of  a  broader  outlook.  We 
must  agree  that  we  have  been  led  to  look  for 
too  speedy  a  realisation  of  our  ideal  by  our 
failure  to  grasp  the  significance  of  the  forces 
with  which  we  have  to  cope;  but  we  do  not 
find  reason  to  despair. 

m 

We  have  been  dwelling  thus  upon  the  im- 
portance of  facing  certain  facts  which  should 
guard  us  from  an  irrational  optimism ;  let  us 
now,  however,  turn  our  attention  to  certain 


THE  GROUNDS  FOR  HOPE  127 

other  facts  that  yield  no  little  encourage- 
ment. 

It  is  true  that  instincts  once  given  can  very 
rarely,  if  ever,  be  eliminated;  but  the  study 
of  biology,  as  we  have  seen,  shows  us  that  it 
is  equally  true  that  specific  instincts  may  be 
transformed  in  their  functioning.  It  is  true, 
as  I  have  already  remarked,  that  fundamen- 
tal changes  in  the  nature  of  instinctive  re- 
actions must  usually  be  very  gradual  indeed ; 
but  on  the  other  hand  we  see  ample  evidence 
throughout  Nature  that  what  amount  to  sud- 
den changes  do  occur,  arising  because  grad- 
ual changes  have  led  to  an  accumulation  of 
influences  that  become  predominant,  and  then 
suddenly  gain  efficiency. 

It  seems  to  me  that  there  are  many  signs 
that  the  time  is  ripe  for  just  such  a  relatively 
sudden  change  in  regard  to  war;  a  change 
which  will  involve,  not  the  obliteration  of  our 
fighting  instincts  indeed,  but  the  chaining  of 
them,  or  the  diversion  of  their  functioning 
into  new  channels. 

We  all  realise  that  the  advance  of  man  is 
co-ordinate  with  social  consolidation;  with 


128     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

an  interlocking  of  interests ;  with  the  growth 
of,  and  appreciation  of  the  importance  of,  co- 
operative effort.  Now  all  must  agree  that 
there  has  been  in  modern  times  an  enormous 
broadening  and  strengthening  of  this  co- 
operation among  individuals  in  diverse  walks 
of  life,  and  among  different  races.  More 
and  more  are  men,  in  our  time,  feeling  that 
it  is  vital  to  them  that  they  should  work 
together. 

We  see  this  exemplified  very  markedly  in 
all  matters  commercial,  especially  in  the 
realm  of  finance.  In  fact,  so  closely  are  these 
financial  interests  interlocked  nowadays  that 
the  people  of  the  United  States,  who  are  in 
no  way  responsible  for  this  war,  will  be  com- 
pelled to  pay  indirectly  no  small  proportion 
of  its  cost. 

It  is  certainly  within  reason  to  hope  for 
such  a  strengthening  of  this  bond — for  such 
an  emphasis  of  commercial  co-operation 
rather  than  of  commercial  rivalry — as  will 
break  down  the  danger  of  the  initiation  of 
aggressive  wars  instituted  in  the  interest  of 
general  commercial  expansion,  or  of  such 
special  commercial  enterprises  as  tempt  our 


THE  GROUNDS  FOR  HOPE  129 

people  to-day  as  they  look  upon  the  undevel- 
oped riches  of  China. 

We  see  the  same  growth  of  co-operative 
tendencies  in  the  friendly  intercourse  of  the 
philosophers  and  scientists  of  many  lands; 
in  the  establishment  of  scientific  and  philo- 
sophical international  Congresses;  and  in 
many  other  directions. 

But  in  this  appreciation  of  the  values  of 
confidential  co-operation  the  leaders  in  diplo- 
macy and  political  management  have  fallen 
far  behind.  They  have  failed  to  keep  pace 
with  the  general  advance  of  the  civilised 
races  in  this  direction.  That  they  will  con- 
tinue to  remain  thus  behind,  however,  is 
scarcely  conceivable.  They  must  speedily 
make  some  substantial  advance  in  accord 
with  the  general  movement. 

We  may  not  be  believers  in  Socialism ;  we 
may  even  reject,  as  I  myself  do,  a  large  part 
of  the  doctrines  it  teaches :  but  we  cannot  fail 
to  see  that  we  have  in  the  widespread  growth 
of  Socialism  the  conviction  of  a  vast  body  of 
intelligent  men  that  our  political  life  must  be- 
come co-operative;  that  diplomacy  must  be- 
come free  from  subterfuge  and  deceit;  and 


ISO    WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

that  international  comity  must  be  strength- 
ened. 

It  is  true  that  man  is  led  to  war  mainly  by 
instinctive  pressure;  but  it  is  also  true,  as 
we  have  seen,  that  the  beginnings  of  effective 
control  of  instinctive  tendencies  may  be 
found  in  intelligent  effort  to  eliminate  the 
stimuli  which  arouse  the  instinctive  reaction. 
These  beginnings  are  evidenced  in  the  growth 
of  sentiments;  and  if  the  growth  of  senti- 
ments antagonistic  to  war  may  be  taken  as 
the  sign  of  a  tendency  which  may  lead  to  the 
rational  control  above  mentioned,  we  must 
surely  see  reason  to  look  for  a  somewhat 
rapid  movement  looking  to  its  abandonment. 
Consider  for  a  moment  one  important  indica- 
tion that  a  relatively  sudden  change  is  im- 
pending in  this  direction. 

Whichever  way  our  sympathies  may  move 
in  relation  to  the  present  war,  is  it  not  very 
striking  that  the  issues  as  formulated  are 
new  issues  I  There  is  no  difficulty  in  pointing 
back  to  relatively  recent  times  in  the  his- 
tories of  the  different  nations  allied  against 
Germany  when  neutral  rights  have  been  care- 


THE  GROUNDS  FOR  HOPE  131 

lessly  violated.  The  significant  fact  is  that 
in  the  opposition  to  such  action  in  this  case 
there  is  indication  of  so  widespread  a  con- 
viction that  a  new  form  of  political  morality 
is  called  for. 

This  is  evidenced  also  in  the  eagerness  of 
each  and  every  combatant  to  disclaim  respon- 
sibility for  the  initiation  of  this  present  war, 
of  which  I  shall  speak  more  at  length  in  our 
last  chapter.  Such  disclaimers  have  been 
little  known  to  belligerents  in  the  past,  who 
have  generally  looked  upon  aggressive  war 
as  a  matter  of  credit  rather  than  of  discredit. 

Again,  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  realise  how 
late  in  the  history  of  man  is  the  acquisition 
of  those  sentiments  adverse  to  war,  so  very 
general  in  our  day,  which  are  based  upon 
man's  repulsion  from  the  immediate  torture 
it  entails.  For  untold  ages  he  has  seemed  to 
think  lightly  of  war's  horrors.  He  appears 
to  have  but  just  awakened  to  the  realisation 
of  the  fact  that  they  far  out-balance  any  pos- 
sible gains  it  can  bring.  Not  until  1792  was 
organised  effort  made  to  mitigate  these  hor- 
rors by  the  establishment  of  ambulance  ser- 
vices on  the  field ;  and  the  Geneva  Convention 


132     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

that  founded  the  beneficent  Eed  Cross  was 
held  only  fifty-one  years  ago.  But  note  how 
rapid  has  been  the  development  of  this  move- 
ment in  the  last  five  decades. 

In  like  manner,  it  is  only  in  late  times 
that  men  have  thought  to  count  the  cost  of 
war  in  resultant  misery  and  monetary  loss, 
and  to  balance  this  against  the  supposed  ben- 
efit attained;  with  the  result  that  they  be- 
gin to  look  upon  war  as  stupid  rather  than 
glorious.  Admirable  as  is  Norman  AngelPs 
book  "The  Great  Illusion,"  it  must  be  seen 
that  it  could  not  have  appeared  to  be  so  strik- 
ing and  effective  had  not  the  masses  of  think- 
ing people  been  quite  unprepared  for  the 
thesis  it  maintains. 

Another  indication  of  this  rapid  spread  of 
sentiments  opposed  to  war  is  of  course  found 
in  the  far-seeing  efforts  that  have  led  in  very 
late  decades  to  the  establishment  of  the 
Hague  tribunals,  and  the  signing  of  arbitra- 
tion treaties  by  the  greater  Nations. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  tendency  to  change 
the  manifestations  of  man's  instinctive  na- 
ture by  rational  foresight  is  indicated  by  his 


THE  GROUNDS  FOR  HOPE  133 

creation  of  ideals,  and  his  effort  to  realise 
these  ideals.  Now  this,  of  all  ages,  is  the  age 
of  idealisms.  No  other  time  has  seen  such 
manifestations  of  the  recognition  of  man's 
creative  capacity  in  measures  of  reform.  In 
every  land,  among  all  types  of  people,  we  find 
springing  up  the  most  varied  of  ideals,  some 
trivial  and  foolish,  some  noble  and  wise.  All 
this  surely  goes  to  show  that  we  are  living  in 
the  beginning  of  a  new  era  when  man  by  his 
intelligent  effort  will  gain  great  triumphs  in 
the  control  of  his  hitherto  non-rationalised 
activities ;  that  he  will  be  able  to  realise  such 
of  his  ideals  as  are  clearly  of  racial  advan- 
tage: and  surely  one  of  these  is  our  ideal  of 
peace. 

We  find  further  encouragement  when  we 
compare  the  varied  ideals  of  peace  enter- 
tained to-day  with  earlier  forms  of  this  ideal. 
The  first  ideal  of  peace  was  in  all  probability 
devised  by  the  savage,  who  could  have  given 
it  no  broader  application  than  that  involved 
in  the  opposition  to  wars  of  aggression  for 
the  sake  of  pure  pillage.  From  this  early 
stage  its  field  of  application  has  gradually 
been  broadened:  first  to  cover  the  reproba- 


134     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

tion  of  all  wars  of  aggression  whatsoever; 
and  then  to  include  with  these  certain  forms 
of  non-aggressive  wars ;  until  during  the  last 
two  thousand  years  a  very  dignified  part  of 
mankind  has  come  to  apply  it  in  the  broadest 
sense,  which  leads  to  opposition  to  wars  of 
every  sort  and  description,  defensive  as  well 
as  offensive;  an  application  that  could  not 
possibly  have  been  conceived  of  by  the  early 
savage.  This  fact  certainly  points  to  a  steady 
advance  towards  enduring  peace;  and  the 
open  defence,  in  late  centuries,  of  the  senti- 
ment favourable  to  this  ideal  of  widest  appli- 
cation is  certainly  a  sign  favourable  to  the 
view  that  the  steps  towards  its  realisation 
may  be  more  rapid  in  the  near  future  than 
they  have  been  in  the  past. 

And  finally  consider  one  more  point.  It 
has  been  frequently  noted  that  in  a  general 
way  the  steps  in  the  development  of  the  so- 
cial life  of  man  correspond  with,  although 
they  drag  after,  the  steps  in  the  development 
of  the  life  of  the  individual.*  We  thus  look 
for  a  general  drift  of  the  development  of 

*  For  a  study  of  the  limitations  of  this  conception  confer 
my  "Consciousness,"  Chapter  vii. 


THE  GROUNDS  FOR  HOPE  135 

sentiments  in  relation  to  social  matters  in  a 
manner  co-ordinate  with  the  drift  of  the  de- 
velopment of  sentiments  in  relation  to  cor- 
responding matters  of  individualistic  signi- 
ficance. 

If,  then,  we  consider  the  close  relation  be- 
tween the  fighting  tendencies  of  the  individ- 
ual man  and  his  tendencies  to  fight  as  a 
member  of  a  social  group  in  war,  we  not  un- 
naturally look  to  the  development  of  senti- 
ments in  relation  to  war  in  an  order  similar 
to  the  development  in  the  past  of  sentiments 
in  relation  to  violent  attack  of  individual 
upon  individual. 

The  tendencies  of  the  savage  individual  to 
murder  have  been  gradually  chained,  until 
to-day  the  civilised  man  scarcely  feels  the 
influence  of  these  tendencies.  And  a  marked 
parallel  can  be  discerned  between  the  steps 
by  which  this  change  has  been  accomplished 
and  those  found  in  the  development  of  the 
conceptions  that  have  prevailed  in  relation  to 
war. 

In  relation  to  murder  we  note  the  change 
from  the  prevalence  of  direct  personal  attack 
to  satisfy  greed  or  revenge,  to  the  arrest  of 


136     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

this  mode  of  attack  and  the  establishment 
of  judicial  systems  to  guard  the  interests  of 
justice,  and  if  need  be  to  punish. 

In  relation  to  war  we  note,  long  after  the 
like  processes  occurred  in  relation  to  murder, 
the  change  from  the  day  when  men  openly 
carried  on  war  to  satisfy  national  greed  and 
revenge,  to  our  time  when  the  nations  in- 
volved indignantly  repel  the  suggestion  that 
either  greed  or  revenge  has  led  them  to  war. 
And  we  see  the  present  beginnings  of  the 
formation  of  codes  of  international  justice  by 
steps  quite  comparable  with  the  far-away  be- 
ginnings of  legal  forms  relating  to  individu- 
als; and  the  effort  to  institute  international 
courts  quite  similar  to  the  early  efforts  in- 
volved in  the  establishment  of  our  judicial 
machinery  relative  to  the  crime  of  individ- 
uals. 

It  is  very  easy  to  carry  too  far  attempts 
to  judge  of  the  nature  of  the  activities  of  so- 
cial groups  by  comparison  with  the  modes  of 
action  of  individuals  within  the  group ;  never- 
theless these  corresponding  developments  in 
the  past  of  which  we  have  thus  spoken  should 
surely  lead  us  to  look  for  similarly  corre- 


THE  GROUNDS  FOR  HOPE  137 

spending  developments  in  the  future,  and  to 
ask  what  these  are  likely  to  be. 

In  relation  to  murder  we  find,  long  after 
the  establishment  of  a  sentiment  that  led 
men  to  hold  personal  attack  of  an  enemy  to 
be  in  general  unwarranted,  a  lingering  notion 
that  certain  cases,  where  a  man's  personal 
honour  is  involved,  can  only  be  met  by  the 
contest  of  the  duel.  So  in  regard  to  war  we 
have  reached  a  stage  where  there  exists  a 
strong  sentiment  that  war  is  inexcusable  ex- 
cept where  questions  of  national  honour  are 
at  stake.  The  development  of  man's  senti- 
ments in  relation  to  the  duel  are  therefore  sig- 
nificant as  indications  of  the  probable  devel- 
opment of  his  sentiments  in  the  future  in  re- 
lation to  war. 

Before  the  duel  was  devised  murder  was 
usually  attempted  at  the  moment  of  provoca- 
tion without  warning,  and  with  every  effort  to 
gain  the  advantage  of  first  attack.  This  mode 
of  procedure  was  gradually  displaced.  The 
duellist  came  to  feel  himself  dishonoured  un- 
less he  gave  his  opponent  full  warning 
through  seconds,  and  showed  no  inclination 
to  take  unfair  advantage  of  him. 


138     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

So  the  sudden  and  ruthless  attack  in  war 
has  been  generally  displaced  by  attack  only 
after  giving  formal  declaration  of  war.  It  is 
looked  upon  as  barbarous  to  bombard  a  city 
without  giving  due  notice  of  the  intention  to 
do  so. 

The  duel,  which  was  originally  fought  un- 
til one  of  the  contestants  was  killed,  has  in 
modern  days  become  more  and  more  per- 
functory. The  mere  first  wound  has  come  to 
be  looked  upon  as  a  sufficient  satisfaction  to 
both  parties ;  and  this  has  been  carried  so  far 
nowadays  that  the  duel  has  become  a  subject 
of  ridicule. 

So  wars  which  were  in  early  days  fought 
to  a  finish,  ending  in  the  crushing  out  of  the 
national  life  of  the  defeated  opponent,  have 
become  more  and  more  perfunctory.  At  the 
first  signs  of  signal  defeat  the  neutral  na- 
tions step  forward,  like  the  seconds  of  the 
duellists,  to  prevent  the  continuance  of  the 
war.  The  blotting  out  of  the  national  life  of 
the  loser  has  come  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  na- 
tional crime;  and  the  contestants  in  general 
willingly  agree  that  national  honour  has  been 
satisfied  on  both  sides  in  the  mere  fact  that 
brave  fighting  has  occurred. 


THE  GROUNDS  FOR  HOPE  139 

But  the  appreciation  of  the  ridiculous  na- 
ture of  the  modern  duel  has  led  men  of  the 
higher  type  to  see  that  on  the  whole  it  is  best 
to  leave  even  questions  of  supposed  personal 
honour  to  the  decision  of  judicial  procedure. 

Does  not  this  strongly  indicate  that  at  no 
distant  day  civilised  mankind  in  general  will 
come  to  see  clearly  that  the  wasteful  energies 
of  war  are  ridiculous  in  themselves,  and  will 
agree  to  the  establishment  of  a  full-fledged 
international  judiciary  to  which  all  cases  of 
international  disagreement,  even  those  in- 
volving national  honour,  shall  be  referred! 

Surely,  then,  we  have  the  very  strongest 
ground  for  hope.  We  cannot  escape  the 
charge  of  being  led  by  an  irrational  optimism 
until  we  face  the  facts  as  they  exist.  We  see 
that  the  road  we  must  travel  may  not  impos- 
sibly be  longer  than  we  might  wish.  But,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  goal  does  certainly  seem 
to  be  in  sight ;  and  we  have  reason  to  believe 
that  if  we  maintain  our  courage  our  ideal  of 
peace  will  at  no  too  distant  day  be  realised. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES 
I 

A  LAEGE  proportion  of  those  who  cling  to  the 
ideal  of  peace,  and  feel  that  they  are  justi- 
fied in  the  entertainment  of  a  rational  opti- 
mism in  regard  to  its  realisation,  look  upon 
war  in  itself  as  immoral.  Not  only  do  they 
condemn  it  because  it  serves  to  let  loose  the 
basest  of  human  passions  which  result  in  the 
commission  of  immoral  acts,  but  beyond  that 
it  appeals  to  them  as  intrinsically  immoral. 

When,  however,  we  look  back  at  the  history 
of  thought  we  find  not  a  few  leading  moral 
teachers  who  have  felt  no  such  repugnance 
towards  war  on  moral  grounds ;  and  this  nat- 
urally leads  us  to  ask  whether  in  fact  we  are 
justified  in  thus  looking  upon  war  as  im- 
moral. 

Before  we  attempt  to  answer  such  a  ques- 
tion, however,  we  are  led  to  inquire  whether 
we  are  warranted  in  applying  the  category 

140 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       141 

of  morality  or  immorality  to  war  at  all.  War 
is  initiated  by  States ;  the  individual  men  that 
fight  being  merely  their  instruments.  Yet  we 
become  accustomed  to  think  of  States  as 
quasi-personal  entities ;  we  find  men  actually 
speaking  of  an  * '  international  mind. ' '  Noting 
then  that  the  morality  of  the  human  indi- 
vidual is  enforced  by  a  power  above  him, 
while  the  hypothetical  international  person- 
ality is  not,  we  are  inclined  to  listen  to  cer- 
tain thinkers  who  declare  that  as  a  quasi-peT- 
sonality  the  State  is  non-moral ;  or  to  others 
who  hold  that  it  has  a  morality  of  its  own, 
which  is,  however,  on  a  different  plane  from 
the  morality  of  human  individuals. 

I  should  hesitate  very  much  to  believe  that 
Spinoza  wrote  more  than  figuratively,  rather 
than  with  any  idea  of  maintaining  the  quasi- 
personal  existence  of  the  State;  but  in  any 
event  he  appears  to  have  had  in  mind  the 
attribution  of  diverse  types  of  morality  to 
States  and  to  human  individuals  when  he 
said:*  " Liberty  or  fortitude  is  the  private 
virtue  of  the  soul,  but  the  virtue  of  the  State 
is  security." 

*"Tractatus  Politicus,"  Cap.  1,  6. 


142     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

And  to  turn  to  our  contemporaries,  Presi- 
dent Carl  Eunge  of  Gottingen  University 
might  perhaps  disclaim  belief  in  the  personal 
nature  of  the  State;  yet  in  a  late  open  let- 
ter* he  quotes  from  Bismarck :  * '  The  right  of 
the  German  nation  to  live  and  to  breathe  in 
unison  undivided  must  not  be  judged  accord- 
ing to  the  principles  of  civil  law";  and  adds 
for  himself  the  significant  words,  "There  is 
a  higher  standard  of  justice  for  nations  than 
for  individuals."  This  is  a  view  that  shocks 
those  of  us  who  look  upon  war  as  intrinsic- 
ally immoral. 

When  we  consider  the  matter  with  care, 
however,  we  see  that  we  must  abandon  alto- 
gether this  conception  of  the  State  as  a  per- 
sonality closely  comparable  with  a  human  in- 
dividual. While  we  may  be  inclined  to  agree 
that  in  correspondence  with  the  activities  of 
a  social  group  there  may  exist  a  social  con- 
sciousness, we  must  hold  that  it  must  be  of 
a  low  type  of  organisation  as  compared  with 
human  consciousness ;  and,  in  any  event,  that 
we  as  parts  of  it  cannot  be  in  a  position  to 

*  Answer  to  address  of  President  Nicholas  Murray  Butler, 
printed  in  New  York  Times  January  5,  1915. 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       143 

judge  of  its  characteristics  as  a  whole ;  can- 
not know  of  any  such  quality  as  its  morality 
or  immorality.*  For  after  all  morality,  as 
we  know  it,  is  a  characteristic  of  human  in- 
dividuals, and  it  is  with  such  human  individ- 
uals that  we  have  to  deal  when  we  ask 
whether  war  is,  or  is  not,  immoral. 

The  question  is  thus  brought  home  to  each 
of  us  personally;  for  we  realise  that  States 
are  made  up  of  individual  human  beings,  and 
that  it  is  through  the  action  of  individual 
men  and  women  that  war  is  waged.  Thus 
although,  when  we  think  of  the  action  of 
States  in  the  abstract,  we  come  to  consider 
it  quite  academic  to  look  upon  war  as  im- 
moral, we  cannot  feel  so  when  we  begin  to 
realise  that  war  is  initiated  by  individuals 
all  of  whose  acts  involve  moral  problems. 

It  is  natural  for  us,  therefore,  to  find  our 
thoughts  in  this  connection  turning  to  our 
own  moral  life.  And  I  shall  beg  indulgence 
if  in  the  beginning  I  remind  the  reader  of 
some  quite  elementary  facts  in  relation  to  his 
own  personal  moral  experience. 

In  the  first  place,  it  will  be  well  to  recall 

*  Confer  my  /Consciousness,"  pp  173  flf. 


144     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

one  point  made  in  our  study  of  the  nature  of 
ideals  in  Chapter  III.  There  it  will  be  re- 
membered we  noted  that  our  concept  of  good 
is  an  ideal,  and  as  such  is  self-created.  The 
morally  good,  being  a  special  form  of  the 
good,  is  thus  also  to  be  considered  as  an  ideal 
of  our  own — an  ideal  that  is  created  by  each 
one  of  us  for  him  or  herself. 

Taking  this  point  of  view,  we  observe  that 
we  never  think  of  our  acts  as  good  or  bad  at 
the  moment  of  our  act;  we  think  of  them  as 
good  or  bad  only  in  reflection.  In  reflection 
we  consider  the  nature  of  the  impulses  that 
guide  us.  Some  of  these  impulses  we  note 
are  momentary.  Others  are  persistent.  Acts 
resulting  from  impulses  that  appear  to  be 
most  enduring  in  reflection  we  call  morally 
good.  Those  resulting  from  impulses  that 
contravene  these  enduring  impulses  we  call 
bad.  The  significance  of  this  fact  will  appear 
later. 

The  morally  good  is  thus  an  ideal  which  is 
based  upon  our  observation  of  our  inner  im- 
pulses. Those  acts  of  our  own  which  we  call 
morally  good  are  such  as  we  find  to  conform 
to  an  ideal  within  ourselves ;  an  ideal  which 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       145 

results  from  the  observation  of  the  stability 
of  certain  impulses  found  within  us  at  the 
time  we  judge  the  act  to  be  good.  So  again, 
in  attributing  moral  goodness  to  other  men, 
we  picture  to  ourselves  the  impulses  that 
probably  guided  them;  and  imagining  these 
impulses  as  our  own,  we  judge  the  conduct 
of  these  other  men  to  be  morally  good  or  bad 
if  our  own  conduct  would  have  been  felt  to 
be  good  or  bad  had  we  been  led  by  the  im- 
pulses we  attribute  to  these  other  men. 

Whenever  we  pass  a  moral  judgment, 
whenever  we  say  an  act  was  morally  good  or 
bad,  we  are  thus  dealing  with  ideals  of  our 
own. 

To  be  sure,  a  large  proportion  of  our  ideals, 
as  we  have  seen,  appear  to  be  given  to  us,  or 
even  forced  upon  us,  by  tradition,  custom, 
or  education;  and  this  is  true  of  our  moral 
ideals.  Tradition  and  custom  attach  good- 
ness to  politeness.  Our  teachers  from  earli- 
est youth  lead  us  to  attribute  moral  goodness 
to  honesty  and  to  truth-telling. 

But  these  traditional  moral  ideals,  like  all 
traditional  ideals,  must,  as  we  have  also  seen, 
have  had  their  initiation  in  the  ideals  of  in- 


146     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

dividual  men ;  each  of  them  must  at  one  time 
have  been  created  by  a  self.  And  even  as 
pressed  upon  us,  they  demand  our  personal 
welcome  or  rejection  through  volitional  acts. 

These  traditional  moral  ideals  are  of 
course  of  the  greatest  moment;  but  much 
more  important  to  us,  and  much  more  signifi- 
cant as  indicative  of  our  spontaneity,  are 
those  moral  ideals  which  we  quite  consciously 
make  for  ourselves ;  ideals  which  we  create  as 
we  advance  in  moral  culture;  this  resulting 
in  a  tendency  to  make  permanent,  and  real, 
those  of  our  inner  impulses  which  look  to  the 
realisation  of  these  ideals.  We  cannot  be 
called  truly  moral  beings  until  we  recreate 
for  ourselves  the  ideals  given  to  us  by  tradi- 
tion, custom,  and  education;  until  we  are 
polite  because  we  have  learned  to  love  our 
neighbours  as  ourselves;  until  we  are  no 
longer  honest  merely  because  honesty  is  the 
best  policy. 

The  height  of  moral  goodness  is  indeed 
found  only  in  the  recognition  of  new  ideals 
of  our  own  making  which  appear  within  us 
in  opposition  to  traditional  ideals,  or  to  other 
of  our  own  already  existing  ideals — new 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       147 

ideals  which  we  render  permanent  by  acts  of 
volition.  The  strong  swimmer  who  instinc- 
tively dashes  into  the  surf  to  save  a  drowning 
man  reaches  no  such  height  of  moral  good- 
ness as  the  weak  swimmer,  who  does  not  find 
himself  instinctively  led  to  dash  into  the  sea, 
but  nevertheless  does  dash  in ;  for  in  so  doing 
he  conquers  his  self-preservative  impulses, 
and  faces  known  danger  in  making  the  at- 
tempt to  save  a  life.  The  youth  who,  having 
long  looked  forward  to  a  legal  career,  vol- 
untarily quenches  his  ambition  in  order  that 
he  may  maintain  in  comfort  his  family  sud- 
denly bereft  of  its  means  of  support,  reaches 
a  higher  moral  plane  than  one  who,  without 
any  such  ambition,  assumes  the  support  of 
his  family  with  little  self-sacrifice. 

In  other  words,  we  rise  to  the  highest 
moral  plane  when  we  make  permanent  for 
ourselves  by  voluntary  acts — by  our  own 
creative  spontaneity — moral  ideals  which 
stand  opposed  to  already  existing  ideals, 
whether  these  be  traditional  or  self-created. 

The  fact  that  the  morality  of  a  given  act, 
or  set  of  acts,  is  a  matter  of  individual  de- 
termination, is  a  very  significant  one.  We 


148     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

may  cling  to  the  conception  of  an  absolute 
morality  which  we  aim  to  attain ;  but  even  if 
we  assume  the  existence  of  such  an  end,  we 
see  that  in  actual  life  it  can  only  be  ap- 
proached by  our  own  creation  of  standards 
of  what  is  moral  and  what  immoral. 

This  involves  the  existence,  in  men  of  dif- 
ferent types,  of  such  diversities  of  view  as  to 
the  nature  of  right  and  wrong  as  are  familiar 
to  all  of  us.  And  it  indicates  that  growth  in 
morality  can  come  only  through  the  contest 
between  the  moral  ideals  of  individuals,  and 
the  persistence  of  those  that  advancing  man 
finds  of  greatest  and  most  permanent  value. 

If  all  this  is  true,  then  it  is  apparent  that 
the  question  as  to  whether  war  is,  or  is  not, 
to  be  looked  upon  as  immoral  is  a  matter  of 
each  person's  own  determination.  If  he 
creates  for  himself  an  ideal  of  peace,  and 
looks  upon  peace  as  a  condition  favourable  to 
moral  advance,  then  in  that  very  fact  war 
becomes  for  him  immoral. 

We  are  thus  at  once  led  to  understand  how 
it  is  that  there  exist  such  wide  diversities  of 
view  in  relation  to  the  immorality  of  war. 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       149 

The  man  who  entertains  no  ideal  of  peace  at 
all  will  of  course  see  no  immorality  whatever 
in  war.  On  the  other  hand,  we  must  expect 
to  find,  among  those  who  do  entertain  this 
ideal  of  peace,  diverse  views  as  to  the  width 
of  application  of  immorality  to  war  corre- 
sponding with  such  differences  as  may  be 
found  in  the  width  of  application  of  the  ideal 
of  peace. 

The  crudest  ideal  of  peace  must  have  been 
one  that  led  the  reformer  among  the  savages 
to  preach  the  immorality  of  war  undertaken 
purely  and  simply  for  the  sake  of  pillage  and 
rapine.  For  him  all  other  forms  of  war  may 
well  have  been  thought  to  be  thoroughly 
moral. 

A  later  and  broader  ideal  of  peace  would 
lead  the  reformer  to  reprobate  wars  of  ag- 
gression unless  these  aggressive  wars  seemed 
necessary  to  the  realisation  of  the  current 
ideals  of  tribal  expansion ;  which  latter,  how- 
ever, he  would  not  look  upon  as  immoral. 
We  still  have  with  us  in  our  day  the  "jingo," 
whose  ideal  of  peace  is  little  removed  from 
that  of  this  early  savage. 

A  still  broader  ideal  of  peace  would  lead 


150     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

the  reformer  to  classify  all  wars  of  aggres- 
sion as  immoral  if  they  were  fought  against 
men  of  his  own  habits  of  action  and  ways  of 
thinking,  but  would  give  moral  sanction  to 
wars  undertaken  to  force  upon  other  nations 
the  valued  characteristics  of  his  own  civilisa- 
tion. The  entertainment  of  such  an  ideal  has 
led  to  the  waging  of  religious  wars  without 
number ;  and  we  all  know  how  cruel  have  been 
the  wars  made  in  the  name  of  the  advance 
of  Christianity.  It  has  led  again  to  wars 
looking  to  the  enforcement  of  commer- 
cial intercourse  upon  people  who  have 
preferred  isolation.  It  leads  men  to-day  to 
say  that  China  has  no  right  to  hold  undevel- 
oped her  vast  mineral  resources,  which  might 
serve  those  of  civilisations  alien  to  hers ;  and 
that  a  war  against  her  for  the  purpose  of 
forcing  her  to  allow  the  development  of  these 
resources  would  be  a  moral  war. 

A  still  broader  ideal  of  peace  is  that  which 
attaches  immorality  to  any  war  of  aggression 
of  any  type  whatsoever;  but  which  attaches 
morality  to  warlike  resistance  to  aggression. 
This  ideal  is  held  by  many  noble  souls  to-day. 
We  have  an  example  in  the  Belgian  Cardinal 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES      151 

Mercier,  who  in  his  celebrated  pastoral  in 
relation  to  the  present  war  tells  his  people: 
"The  religion  of  Christ  makes  patriotism  a 
positive  law;  there  is  no  perfect  Christian 
who  is  not  also  a  perfect  patriot.  .  .  . 
Patriotism  is  a  sacred  thing:  a  violation  of 
national  dignity  is  in  a  manner  a  profana- 
tion and  a  sacrilege.  .  .  .  Our  king  is,  in 
the  esteem  of  all,  at  the  very  summit  of  the 
moral  scale.  .  .  .  Which  of  us  would  have 
the  heart  to  cancel  this  last  page  of  our  na- 
tional history?  Which  of  us  does  not  exult 
in  the  brightness  of  the  glory  of  this  shat- 
tered nation?" 

And  finally  we  reach  the  broadest  of  all 
ideals  of  peace,  which  leads  the  reformer  to 
reprobate  all  war  as  such,  even  when  it  is 
undertaken  merely  to  oppose  unwarranted 
aggression;  an  ideal  which  involves  the  be- 
lief that  the  highest  of  moral  ideals  will 
finally  come  to  prevail  only  if  no  resistance 
is  offered  even  to  oppression.  This  was  the 
ideal  represented  in  the  life  of  Christ  as  it 
is  interpreted,  for  instance,  by  the  Society  of 
Friends  commonly  known  as  Quakers,  and  by 
the  disciples  of  Tolstoi. 


152     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

It  is  clear  that  this  broadening  of  the  ap- 
plication of  the  ideal  of  peace  has  occurred 
pari  passu  with  man's  advance;  and  that  cor- 
respondingly the  conception  of  the  immoral- 
ity of  war  has  gained  significance.  It  seems 
highly  probable,  therefore,  that  in  the  end 
the  broadest  of  the  ideals  above  referred  to 
will  be  very  generally  accepted. 

We  cannot  expect  it  to  be  accepted,  how- 
ever, without  a  long  contest.  Each  step  as 
above  sketched  must  have  involved  a  cour- 
ageous attitude  in,  and  no  little  danger  to, 
the  reformer.  The  savage  who  first  opposed 
a  war  of  pillage  was  probably  treated  as  a 
coward,  or  at  least  looked  upon  as  what  men 
of  our  day  would  call  a  "mollycoddle."  The 
reformer  who  proclaimed  the  immorality  of 
a  religious  war  did  so  at  the  risk  of  fortune 
or  life.  The  "jingo"  of  to-day  heaps  con- 
tumely upon  the  man  who  opposes  him;  and 
the  peaceful  nation  that  is  not  armed  to  the 
teeth  still  runs  some  risk  of  attack  by  the 
aggressor.  But  this  risk  must  be  taken  if 
the  broadest  of  all  these  ideals  of  peace  is 
finally  to  be  realised. 

Christ  refused  to  allow  His  followers  to 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES      153 

defend  Him  with  the  sword.  He  elected  to 
die  rather  than  surrender  a  jot  or  tittle  of 
His  ideals,  which  His  enemies  thought  they 
had  forever  crushed,  but  which  we  see  begin- 
ning to  spread  over  the  whole  earth. 

In  any  event,  whether  our  ideal  of  peace 
be  broad  or  narrow,  we  may  at  once  settle 
this  one  point.  If  we  are  firm  in  clinging  to 
this  ideal  and  are  equally  firm  in  our  own 
conviction  that  war  within  certain  limits, 
narrow  or  broad,  is  immoral,  then  we  are 
warranted  in  using  all  our  endeavour  as 
moral  beings  to  press  upon  others  the  view 
we  maintain  for  ourselves.  For  only  by  such 
pressure  can  moral  ideals  of  any1  type  be 
made  to  prevail.  Only  in  this  manner  can 
we  hope  to  use  ethical  means  to  enforce  the 
ideal  of  peace. 

n 

But  many  of  us  go  farther  than  this.  We 
not  only  think  that  war  is  immoral,  but  feel 
that  it  is  intrinsically  irreligious  as  well. 

Here,  however,  we  are  led  to  pause  when 
we  look  back  at  the  ages,  and  note  the  willing- 
ness of  men  of  old  to  make  war  part  of  their 


154     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

religion.  To  a  very  great  extent  the  gods 
of  the  ancients  were  war  gods. 

It  may  be  said  perhaps  by  some  that  one 
of  the  most  distinct  marks  of  the  superiority 
of  the  Christian  religion  over  all  others  lies 
just  in  the  fact  that  it  is  a  religion  of  peace. 
We  think  of  it  indeed  as  the  very  embodi- 
ment of  the  ideal  of  peace.  And  so  it  is 
theoretically;  but  practically  we  know  that 
some  of  the  bloodiest  wars  have  been  waged 
in  the  name  of  the  Christian  religion;  and 
even  in  modern  days  we  are  shocked  by  the 
call  made  upon  the  God  the  Christian  wor- 
ships to  champion  the  cause  of  the  aggressor 
in  war. 

When,  however,  we  ask  why  we  are 
shocked  by  this  evidence  that  war  which  we 
look  upon  as  immoral  is  not  so  considered  by 
men  of  deeply  religious  tendencies,  we  are 
led  to  note  that  we  are  thus  disturbed  because 
we  assume  that  religion  yields  morality;  as- 
sume that  the  attainment  of  the  religious 
experience — the  ' '  getting  of  religion, ' '  as  the 
revivalist  puts  it — involves  the  direct  attain- 
ment of  a  higher  moral  standard.  How  gen- 
eral this  view  is  we  find  evidenced  in  the  very 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       155 

fact  that  many  a  man  rejects  religion  be- 
cause he  sees  clear  proof  that  it  does  not  give 
its  devotees  so  high  a  moral  standard  as  his 
own,  and  thus  fails  to  make  good  what  he 
thinks  the  pretensions  of  religion  to  be. 

This  case  of  the  devotion  to  immoral  war 
among  religious  men  thus  appears  to  be  but 
a  special  case  among  many  others  that  run 
counter  to  the  generally  accepted  notion  that 
religion  in  itself  involves  a  high  moral  stand- 
ard. 

But  it  is  very  evident  upon  the  most  cur- 
sory study  that,  whatever  the  relation  be- 
tween morality  and  religion  may  be,  it  is  not 
of  such  a  nature  that  the  "  getting  of  re- 
ligion" carries  with  it  the  direct  attainment 
of  a  higher  moral  standard  than  that  held  be- 
fore the  moment  of  conversion. 

This  is  made  clear  by  the  acts  of  many 
sincerely  religious  men.  We  may  take  as  an 
extreme  example  the  very  religious  negro 
who  is  ever  ready  to  steal,  and  to  commit 
other  grosser  crimes.  The  man  who  con- 
trolled the  vicious  Louisiana  lottery  is  said 
to  have  been  a  deeply  religious  person  who 
would  not  allow  cards  to  be  played  in  his 


156     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

house,  because  he,  with  his  church  leaders, 
thought  card-playing  immoral.  But  we  need 
go  no  further,  for  we  all  know  of  illustra- 
tions among  people  of  our  own  type. 

We,  however,  may  grant  that  this  notion  is 
unwarranted,  and  yet  not  rest  satisfied;  for 
the  very  fact  that  thoughtful  people  do  so 
generally  expect  the  religious  life  to  yield 
a  high  standard  of  morals  is  significant, 
showing  how  intimate  the  relation  referred  to 
is  felt  to  be.  Naturally,  then,  we  ask,  What 
is  the  basis  of,  and  the  nature  of  this  relation 
between  morality  and  religion!  And  to  this 
question  we  may  turn  our  attention  before 
going  farther. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  a  number  of 
characteristics  of  the  moral  attitude.  There 
is,  however,  a  special  and  important  manner 
in  which  our  moral  ideals  are  brought  to  our 
notice  that  has  not  been  mentioned  thus  far. 
I  refer  to  what  we  speak  of  as  the  warnings 
of  conscience. 

We  all  appreciate  by  experience  what  is 
meant  when  one  speaks  of  the  voice  of  con- 
science ;  and  we  realise  how  important  it  is,  if 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES      157 

we  are  to  advance  in  our  moral  life,  that  its 
dictates  should  not  be  hushed  or  carelessly 
over-ridden.  We  seldom,  however,  stop  to 
ask  what  the  nature  of  this  voice  of  con- 
science is. 

Charles  Darwin,  to  whom  we  owe  so  much, 
did  not  often  turn  to  psychological  analysis ; 
but  in  his  brief  study  of  the  origin  of  the 
moral  sentiments  he  made  a  very  notable  con- 
tribution to  ethical  theory,  the  importance  of 
which  has  been  very  generally  overlooked. 
The  voice  of  conscience,  he  taught  us,  is  due 
to  the  demand  for  recognition  made  by  rela- 
tively permanent  impulses  of  moderate 
strength,  in  opposition  to  the  pressure  of  less 
important  impulses  which  are  momentarily 
of  very  great  strength. 

For  instance,  the  immediate  very  power- 
ful impulse  to  strike  one's  enemy,  with  hand 
or  tongue,  is  met  by  the  demand  of  the  mo- 
mentarily less  powerful,  and  yet  more  per- 
manent, impulses  which  would  lead  us  to 
sympathetic  kindness.  And  the  voice  of  con- 
science tells  us  not  to  strike ;  or  if  we  strike 
without  waiting  for  its  guidance  this  con- 
science "smites  us,"  as  we  say,  when  we  re- 


158     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

fleet  upon  our  action  after  the  deed  is  done. 

It  is  evident  that  these  more  permanent, 
even  if  less  powerful,  impulses  must  in  gen- 
eral point  to  better  results  than  those  more 
forcible,  but  merely  momentary,  impulses; 
for  otherwise  they  would  not  have  gained 
this  relative  permanency.  The  impulse  to 
strike  an  enemy  is  far  less  significant  in  our 
life  than  the  impulse  to  kindliness  and  sym- 
pathy. And  in  general,  then,  we  may  say  that 
it  is  of  the  highest  importance  that  we  inhibit, 
or  repress,  the  expression  of  the  more  power- 
ful momentary  impulses,  until  the  less  power- 
ful, but  more  persistent,  impulses  can  make 
themselves  heard  in  the  still  small  voice  of 
conscience. 

Now  in  my  view  it  is  just  in  the  fact  that 
our  religious  experiences  foster  the  restraint 
which  permits  the  voice  of  conscience  to  be 
heard,  and  enforces  its  commands,  that  we 
have  the  most  profound  significance  of  re- 
ligion, and  the  meaning  of  its  relation  to  our 
moral  life. 

In  order  to  indicate  the  ground  we  have 
for  reaching  this  conclusion,  let  us  consider 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES      159 

briefly  the  nature  of  that  very  complex  hu- 
man mode  of  thought  and  action  which  we 
speak  of  as  the  religious  life.* 

We  may  best  reach  firm  ground  here  by 
inquiring  as  to  the  essential  nature  of  the 
religious  experience.  In  doing  this  we  can- 
not look  only  into  our  own  experience;  we 
must  note  that  the  religious  attitude  is  at- 
tained by  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men ;  by 
savages  and  civilised  people;  by  those  who 
have  what  we  call  low  standards  of  morality, 
as  well  as  by  those  who  have  what  we  call 
high  standards.  In  other  words,  we  must  try 
to  take  account  of  all  types  and  "varieties  of 
religious  experience,"  as  William  James 
aimed  to  do  in  his  famous  book  under  that 
title;  we  must  use  our  own  individual  ex- 
perience merely  as  a  mode  of  interpretation 
of  the  religious  experiences  of  men  at  large. 

But  as  soon  as  we  attempt  to  do  this  we 
are  met  by  the  fact  that  only  a  limited  num- 
ber of  people  whom  we  might  question  are 
sufficiently  skilled  in  introspection  to  tell  us 
clearly  of  the  nature  of  their  own  experiences 

•For  a  full  study  of  this  subject  confer  my  "Instinct 
and  Reason." 


160     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

of  the  religious  life.  Furthermore,  we  per- 
ceive that  we  must  take  into  account  the  re- 
ligious experiences  of  members  of  the  less 
civilised  races,  who  find  it  very  difficult  to 
communicate  to  us  the  nature  of  their  inner 
life,  and  even  of  the  savages,  who  are  en- 
tirely unable  to  do  so.  And  beyond  that,  if 
we  are  to  make  anything  like  a  complete 
study,  we  ought  to  take  into  consideration 
the  experience  of  the  peoples  who  are  dead 
and  gone,  but  whose  records  give  evidence 
that  they  were  most  profoundly  religious. 

How  can  we  do  this?  Certainly  not  by 
careful  consideration  of  the  doctrines  that 
are  commonly  looked  upon  as  essential  re- 
ligious elements ;  for  the  doctrines  taught  by 
religious  teachers  among  the  very  early 
peoples  are  all  but  entirely  unknown  to  us, 
and  those  inculcated  among  the  savages  are 
with  great  difficulty  comprehended  by  us. 
Furthermore,  even  when  we  study  the  doc- 
trines preached  by  religious  leaders  in  our 
own  time,  among  people  whom  we  may  cross- 
examine  directly,  we  discover  the  very  great- 
est variety  of  dogmas  deemed  to  be  es- 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES      161 

sential  by  the  representatives  of  diverse 
sects,  among  all  of  whom  the  most  sincere  re- 
ligious devotion  is  evidenced. 

No,  it  is  clear  that  the  essence  of  religion 
is  not  to  be  found  by  a  study  of  its  dogmas, 
however  important  these  dogmas  may  be 
found  to  be  in  the  attainment  and  mainte- 
nance of  the  religious  life.  In  fact,  it  appears 
certain,  when  we  come  to  study  the  subject, 
that  these  doctrines  and  dogmas  have  been 
devised  by  men,  not  as  a  basis  of  the  estab- 
lishment of  religious  experience,  but  in  the 
attempt  to  make  this  religious  experience 
harmonise  with  the  rest  of  their  experience; 
to  make  already  existing  religious  expres- 
sions which  yield  this  experience  appear  ra- 
tional, that  the  devotees  may  satisfy  their 
own  minds,  and  convince  those  who  hesitate, 
that  the  attainment  of  the  religious  attitude 
is  desirable. 

Religion  is  intuitive,  and  is  much  deeper 
than  mere  dogma,  which  is  distinctly  intel- 
lectual. 

Whither,  then,  shall  we  turn  in  our  quest 
for  the  essential  nature  of  religion!  Pos- 


162     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

sibly  we  may  gain  some  insight  by  the  study 
of  the  outward  expressions  of  religious  feel- 
ing which  religious  dogmas  attempt  to  ex- 
plain in  terms  of  rational  conceptions;  ex- 
pressions which  are  equally  well  studied 
among  ourselves,  and  the  less  civilised,  and 
the  savage;  and  almost  as  well  even  among 
the  peoples  of  the  dim  past  who  have  left 
more  or  less  perfect  record  of  their  modes  of 
expressing  their  religious  feelings,  even  when 
they  have  left  no  indication  of  the  doctrines 
inculcated  in  connection  with  them. 

We  would  turn  thus  in  our  quest  for  the 
essence  of  religion  to  a  study  of  the  basic 
elements  that  are  necessarily  connected  with 
the  very  varied  forms  of  action  by  which  re- 
ligious men  express  their  religious  feelings, 
asking,  What  is  the  significance  of  religious 
expression? 

When  we  undertake  this  investigation  we 
discover  that  some  forms  of  this  religious 
expression  are,  and  have  been,  very  general 
and  widespread;  although  the  ceremonials 
and  doctrines  in  connection  with  which  they 
are,  and  have  been,  developed  differ  in  many 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES      163 

particulars.  We  find  among  such  common 
forms  of  religious  expression,  for  instance, 
asceticism,  fasting,  penance,  sacrifice,  celi- 
bacy, prayer. 

Asceticism  involves  voluntary  assumption 
of  conditions  that  necessarily  exclude  the 
individual  from  the  stimuli  of  the  complex 
life  in  which  he  was  born.  Buddha,  John  the 
Baptist,  Christ  for  forty  days,  St.  Francis 
of  Assisi,  and  countless  saints  among  sav- 
age and  civilised  peoples  alike,  have  ex- 
pressed their  religious  devotion  by  ascet- 
icism. 

Fasting,  again,  is  a  form  of  religious  ex- 
pression that  has  been  very  common  among 
all  religious  devotees,  although  less  common 
among  the  races  of  the  world  to-day. 

Closely  related  to  fasting  are  the  varied 
forms  of  self-torture  covered  by  the  general 
term  penance. 

Sacrifice,  in  one  way  or  another,  involves 
the  giving  up  of  what  is  considered  desirable 
by  the  religious  devotee;  and  celibacy  is  a 
special  form  of  self-sacrifice. 

Prayer,  however,  is  by  far  the  most  gen- 
eral of  all  forms  of  religious  expression ;  be- 


164     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

ing  undertaken  by  itself  alone,  or  in  connec- 
tion with  asceticism,  fasting,  and  penance. 
It  is,  in  my  view,  the  most  significant  of  all 
forms  of  religious  expression.  The  mental 
attitude  gained  in  prayer  may  indeed  be  held 
to  be  typical  of  all  religious  experience. 

It  would  be  possible  to  mention  many  other 
forms  of  religious  expression — initiatory 
tortures  and  other  services — but  enough  ex- 
amples of  the  most  important  types  have 
been  given  to  serve  our  purpose. 

When  we  consider  these  typical  forms  of 
religious  expression  we  note  that  all  of  them, 
if  viewed  biologically,  appear  as  habits  of 
action  that  have  been  acquired  by,  and  have 
become  established  in,  the  race  as  modes  of 
human  behaviour.  If,  then,  taking  a  biolog- 
ical point  of  view,  we  consider  these  habits 
of  religious  expression  in  themselves,  it 
seems  clear  that  they  could  not  have  become 
established  because  of  any  intrinsic  attrac- 
tiveness to  the  savage  individual  who  first  un- 
dertook them.  In  themselves,  asceticism, 
fasting,  penance,  and  celibacy  must  have  been 
unattractive  to  the  early  man  who  first  ac- 
quired these  habits  of  religious  expression. 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       165 

Sacrifice  must  have  been  distasteful;  and 
habits  of  action  connected  with  prayer  in 
themselves  could  not  have  been  more  than 
neutral,  never  essentially  interesting. 

Moreover,  these  modes  of  religious  expres- 
sion must  have  been  not  merely  unattractive 
to  the  early  man,  but,  if  persisted  in  by  the 
savage  individual,  must  have  tended  to  his 
immediate  personal  disadvantage.  Ascet- 
icism, penance,  and  fasting  weakened  him, 
and  put  him,  for  the  moment  at  least,  out  of 
the  glorified  class  of  victorious  warriors. 
Celibacy  cut  him  off  from  that  tribal  influ- 
ence which  went  with  the  birth  to  him  of 
those  who  could  aid  his  tribal  aspirations. 
Prayer  put  him  in  an  attitude  of  non-alert- 
ness, which  might  well  be  fatal  to  him  in  his 
barbarous  surroundings. 

But  beyond  this  unattractiveness,  and 
actual  disadvantage,  to  the  individual,  these 
forms  of  religious  expression  must  have  been 
distinctly  disadvantageous  to  the  race  in  the 
individual  member  of  which  they  appeared. 
Asceticism,  penance,  fasting,  tended  to  weak- 
en the  man,  and  to  lessen  his  worth  as  a 
combatant.  And  prayer  had  a  similar  ten- 


166     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

dency  to  lessen  his  immediate  value  in  offence 
and  defence;  for,  as  I  have  said,  it  involved 
attitudes  in  which  alertness  was  impossible. 
Celibacy,  if  carried  to  extremes,  would  of 
course  lead  to  the  swift  obliteration  of  the 
tribe. 

Evidently,  then,  the  tribes  in  which  these 
habits  had  become  fixed  would  be  at  a  disad- 
vantage in  the  struggle  for  persistence,  un- 
less these  modes  of  expression  carried  with 
them  certain  indirect  advantages  in  the  con- 
tests of  life  to  offset  this  unattractiveness  to 
the  individual,  and  this  individualistic  and 
racial  disadvantage.  Had  this  not  been  true 
the  races  in  which  these  habits  tended  to  be- 
come fixed  would  have  been  eliminated  in  the 
strife  for  survival. 

Now  what  can  this  essentially  advantage- 
ous characteristic  have  been?  We  have  the 
best  chance  of  finding  it  if  we  ask  ourselves 
what  is  common  to  all  the  notable  modes  of 
religious  expression  just  referred  to.  And 
when  we  do  so,  we  discover  at  once  that  they, 
one  and  all,  tend  to  prevent  the  religious  man 
from  immediate  reactions  to  the  usual  stimuli 
in  the  world  about  him.  Celibacy  cuts  one  off 


from  the  strongest  incentives  to  enter  the 
active  life;  and  the  asceticism  of  which  it 
is  a  special  form  very  evidently  tends  to 
prevent  immediate  reactions  to  the  stimuli 
which  press  the  ordinary  man  to  instant  re- 
sponse. Penance  and  fasting  have  the  same 
tendencies.  But  prayer,  which  is  the  most 
notable  of  all  religious  expressions,  most 
certainly  shows  this  characteristic  of  the  in- 
hibition of  immediate  reactions  to  the  stimuli 
reaching  the  religious  devotee  from  the  world 
about  him. 

We  may  say,  then,  that,  in  restraint  from 
immediate  reaction  to  the  ordinary  stimuli 
coming  to  the  average  man,  we  have  found 
in  any  event  a  very  marked  characteristic  of 
all  the  most  important  modes  of  religious 
expression. 

Religious  expressions  involve  restraint. 

With  this  thought  in  mind  let  us  again 
turn  our  attention  to  the  fact  that  by  general 
agreement  religious  experience  has  to  do  with 
moral  experience. 

This  moral  experience,  as  we  have  seen, 
arises  in  connection  with  our  observation  of 


168     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

the  nature  of  our  inner  impulses.  We  are 
thus  led  to  ask  what  characteristic  of  our  in- 
ner experience  is  necessarily  correlated  with 
the  restraint  from  immediate  reactions  which 
we  find  the  essential  characteristic  of  re- 
ligious expression. 

When  we  ask  this  question  we  at  once  re- 
call that  it  is  this  restraint  from  immediate 
reaction  which  brings  into  our  experience  the 
voice  of  conscience,  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  a  prompting  within  us  due  to  the  efficiency 
of  more  permanent  impulses  which  are  un- 
able to  gain  ascendency  so  long  as  we 
allow  ourselves  to  be  swayed  by  those  im- 
pulses which,  though  less  permanent,  are 
more  powerful. 

Restraint  involves  the  emphasis  of  con- 
science. 

It  thus  seems  clear  at  once  that  religious 
expression  in  repressing  man's  tendency  to 
immediate  reaction  to  the  powerful  stimuli 
reaching  him  from  the  world  in  which  he 
lives,  must  necessarily  tend  to  emphasise 
within  him  the  voice  of  conscience ;  and  that 
the  acquisition  of  habits  of  religious  expres- 
sion must  carry  with  it  a  tendency  to  listen 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       169 

to  the  guidance  of  this  inner  voice;  must 
strengthen  within  the  religious  man  a  sense 
of  the  importance  of  its  dictates.  This  as 
clearly  points  to  the  conclusion  that  the  essen- 
tial value  of  religious  expression  lies  in  the 
fact  that  it  involves  an  emphasis  of  restraint, 
which  brings  into  being  the  voice  of  con- 
science, which  then  gains  power  to  enforce  its 
demands.  And  this  means  that  the  essential 
value  of  religious  expression,  and  of  the  ex- 
perience connected  with  it,  lies  in  the  fact 
that  it  tends  to  strengthen  within  us  the 
voice  of  conscience,  and  leads  us  to  acquire 
the  habit  of  submission  to  its  guidance. 

If  we  accept  this  view  we  at  once  see  the 
ground  for  the  generally  acknowledged  close 
relation  between  morality  and  religion  to 
which  we  have  referred  above.  For  the  very 
essence  of  our  moral  life  lies  in  the  weighing 
of  opposed  impulses  against  one  another,  and 
the  adjustment  of  our  conduct  so  that  it  will 
meet  the  demand  of  what  we  call  the  higher, 
wrhich  are  the  more  enduring,  impulses.  And 
the  voice  of  conscience,  as  we  have  seen, 
comes  into  existence  as  the  result  of  this 
balancing,  and  is  thus  the  most  valuable  of 


170     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

all  moral  experiences.  If,  then,  the  religious 
attitude,  gained  by  means  of  religious  ex- 
pression, tends  to  enforce  restraint,  and  to 
bring  the  voice  of  conscience  into  promi- 
nence, it  performs  moral  service  of  the 
greatest  possible  value. 

Religion  thus  appears  as  a  governing 
power,  working  to  the  enforcement  of  moral- 
ity. 

This  means  that  if  religion  is  to  guide  our 
moral  impulses,  these  moral  impulses  must 
be  already  existent.  Thus  morality,  geneti- 
cally speaking,  is  primary,  and  religion  in  a 
sense  secondary.  But  on  the  other  hand,  re- 
ligion has  higher  value  than  morality  in  the 
very  fact  that  it  covers  the  whole  realm  of 
morality,  and  is  a  governing  power,  enforc- 
ing the  higher,  and  repressing  the  lower, 
moral  impulses. 

Let  us  now  attempt  to  make  application  of 
these  considerations  to  the  special  problem 
before  us;  to  answer  in  general  those  puz- 
zling questions  raised  by  what  seem  to  us 
the  sinful  acts  of  the  man  whose  religious  at- 
titude cannot  be  doubted,  and  in  particular 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       171 

the  questions  raised  by  our  observation  of 
the  devotion  of  the  religious  man's  energies 
to  the  waging  of  war,  which  we  look  upon  as 
fundamentally  immoral. 

We  see  that  while  religion  strengthens 
whatever  moral  tendencies  a  man  may  have, 
it  does  not  directly  produce  moral  tendencies. 
It  strengthens  the  best  that  is  in  us,  but  it 
does  not  in  itself  create  high  moral  stan- 
dards. And  when  we  face  this  fact  we  not 
only  find  an  explanation  of  the  existence  of 
low  standards  of  morality  among  the  reli- 
gious, but  we  perceive  that  we  cannot  look  to 
religion  in  itself  for  the  creation  of  high  stan- 
dards in  ourselves  or  others;  can  look  to  it 
for  no  more  than  aid  in  their  establishment. 
These  high  standards  can  only  be  gained  by 
such  serious  thought  upon  the  leadings  of 
conscience,  and  such  strenuous  efforts  to  live 
according  to  its  guidance,  as  are  fully  intel- 
lectual and  apart  from  the  direct  influence  of 
religion. 

In  my  view  there  can  be  no  more  vicious 
moral  teaching  than  that  which  leads  the 
religious  convert  to  feel  that  in  "getting 


172     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

religion"  all  is  found  that  is  needed  to  yield 
the  moral  life.  When  we  have  attained  the 
religious  attitude  we  have  indeed  gained  an 
enormous  enforcement  of  such  moral  stan- 
dards as  exist  in  us,  and  powerful  aid  in  the 
attainment  of  higher  standards  through  the 
enforcement  of  their  weak  beginnings;  but 
these  higher  standards  must  themselves  be 
gained  by  the  spontaneity,  the  creative  activ- 
ity, of  the  self,  which  makes  its  own  ideals 
of  conduct. 

All  this  goes  to  show  that  if  a  man  sees  no 
reason  to  restrain  his  fighting  instincts,  if 
he  does  not  look  upon  war  as  immoral,  he  will 
naturally  picture  the  God  to  whom  he,  as  a 
religious  man,  looks  for  aid,  as  a  God  of  war. 
And  he  will  persist  in  maintaining  such  a 
view  until  he  has  changed  his  moral  concep- 
tions— until  he  has  become  convinced  that 
war  is  immoral  in  itself. 

I  myself  have  a  profound  sympathy  with 
the  Christian  religion,  and  yet  an  equally 
profound  conviction  that  we  must  not  expect 
this  Christian  religion  to  do  for  us  what 
neither  it,  nor  any  other  religion,  can  do ;  and 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       173 

that  our  own  effort  is  necessary  if  we  are  to 
improve  our  own  moral  standards.  Speak- 
ing as  such  an  one,  I  cannot  but  think  it  most 
deplorable  that  we  allow  ourselves  to  read, 
and  hear  read  in  our  religious  services,  parts 
of  the  Scriptures  that  were  written  by  reli- 
gious men  of  the  past  whose  standards  of 
morals  were,  from  our  present  point  of  view, 
much  lower  than  our  own. 

No  one  who  believes  thoroughly  in  the  im- 
morality of  war  can  have  failed  to  have  been 
shocked,  as  I  was,  on  Sunday,  the  30th  day 
of  August  last,  when  I  heard  a  member  of 
the  clergy  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church  open  the  reading  of  the  Psalter  ap- 
pointed for  the  day  with  the  terrible  words, 
"Blessed  be  the  Lord  God  who  teacheth  my 
hands  to  battle,  and  my  fingers  to  fight." 
These  words  were  written  by  a  man  of  deep 
religious  feeling,  but  one  who  had  not  gained 
any  conception  of  the  immorality  of  war- 
one  whose  God  was  a  God  of  war.  Surely  it 
cannot  be  anything  but  a  loss  to  morals  and 
to  religion  in  our  day  to  ask  our  people  to 
repeat  his  sayings.  Surely  such  repetition 


174     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

cannot  aid  us  in  gaining  conviction  as  to  the 
immorality  of  war. 

The  outcome  of  this  discussion  is  then  ap- 
parent. It  teaches  us  that  religion  cannot  be 
expected  in  itself  to  result  in  the  disappear- 
ance of  war.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  it 
leads  us  to  see  that  religion  may  be  depended 
upon  to  strengthen  the  growth  of  our  repul- 
sion for  war  when  once  we  have  come  to  look 
upon  war  as  immoral;  but  that  it  cannot  be 
depended  upon  to  do  more  than  this. 

Thus  we  perceive  that  if  we  are  to  make 
progress  towards  the  realisation  of  our  ideal 
of  peace  we  must  turn  our  effort  to  the 
strengthening  within  ourselves  of  the  convic- 
tion that  war  is  profoundly  immoral ;  and  to 
the  spread  of  this  conviction  far  and  wide 
among  the  peoples  of  the  earth.  And  this  in 
turn  leads  us  to  appreciate  the  importance  of 
our  clear  consideration  of  the  moral  prob- 
lems involved,  and  of  the  responsibility  we 
as  individuals  must  bear ;  a  subject  to  which 
we  shall  turn  our  thought  in  our  final  chap- 
ter. 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       175 

m 

In  order  to  avoid  too  wide  digressions 
from  the  subject  of  our  consideration,  I  have 
passed  over  all  too  lightly  certain  points  in- 
volved with  the  study  of  the  relation  of  re- 
ligion to  morality  that  are  of  deep  signifi- 
cance, to  which  I  feel  impelled  to  refer  in  or- 
der to  avoid  misunderstanding  of  the  posi- 
tions I  take.  The  reader  who  turns  to  this 
book  for  the  discussion  of  problems  relating 
to  war  alone  may  well  pass  at  once  to  the 
final  chapter. 

In  what  has  been  said  of  the  nature  of  re- 
ligion, our  thought  has  been  so  concentrated 
upon  the  interpretation  of  the  varied  forms 
of  religious  expression  that  we  have  failed  to 
emphasise  sufficiently  the  important  fact  that 
these  expressions  have  their  significance  only 
in  so  far  as  they,  one  and  all,  involve  the  rise 
of  religious  experience. 

It  is  to  be  remarked,  however,  that  on  the 
one  hand  this  religious  experience  is  not  al- 
ways induced  in  those  who  exhibit  these  re- 
ligious expressions;  and  on  the  other  hand 
that  this  religious  experience  may  be,  and 


176     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

surely  often  is,  induced  in  many  men  and 
women  who  do  not  practise  such  forms  of  re- 
ligious expression  as  we  have  been  consider- 
ing. 

If  an  individual  has  acquired  the  habit  of 
listening  persistently  for  the  voice  of  con- 
science, and  of  submission  to  the  guidance  it 
gives,  he,  under  the  view  here  presented,  is  a 
religious  man.  A  large  proportion  of  men 
find  it  easier  to  gain  the  religious  attitude 
by  means  of  religious  expression  than  in  any 
other  way.  But  not  a  few  are  able  to  gain 
it  by  other  methods ;  and  this  means  that  they 
are  religious  individuals  even  though  they  do 
not  devote  themselves  to  religious  exercises. 
Some  of  the  most  religious  men  and  women  I 
know  are  non-churchgoers. 

According  to  Schleiermacher,  whose  views 
have  had  so  wide  an  influence  upon  modern 
thought,  religion  consists  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  oneness  with  the  Absolute  or  Infinite. 

This  statement,  as  Dr.  Arthur  C.  McGiffert 
has  recently  shown,  is  fundamentally  iden- 
tical with  numerous  other  statements  by  im- 
portant religious  writers  of  our  day.  It  is  a 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES      177 

statement  of  the  thoughtful  man's  analysis 
of  his  religious  experience;  and  it  is  proba- 
bly one  that  covers  the  experience  of  the  man 
incapable  of  any  such  fine  analysis,  who  is  able 
to  interpret  his  experience  only  in  terms  in- 
volving the  conception  of  a  God  of  a  more  or 
less  grossly  anthropomorphic  type ;  as  a  God 
of  war,  for  instance.  It  is  a  statement  that  I 
find  verified  in  my  own  experience. 

But  considered  merely  as  an  experience,  it 
fails  of  functional  significance;  and  hence 
can  have  relation  to  morality  only  in  its  re- 
sultants. 

In  my  own  case  I  find  this  experience 
coupled  with  a  sense  of  willingness  to  be 
guided;  and  if  I  put  this  into  language  re- 
lated to  conceptions  similar  to  that  of 
Schleiermacher,  I  must  say  "a  sense  of  will- 
ingness to  be  guided  by  the  Absolute  or  In- 
finite." 

But  this  guidance  does  not  come  from 
commands  given  to  the  man  from  without ;  it 
is  found  within  his  own  conscious  experience, 
in  the  very  voice  of  conscience  which  we  have 
been  considering.  And,  as  I  have  already 


178     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

said,  in  the  pressure  given  in  the  religious 
experience  tending  to  enforce  the  acceptance 
of  this  guidance  of  conscience,  we  have,  in 
my  view,  the  significance  of  religion  in  rela- 
tion to  our  moral  life. 

Again,  our  mode  of  approach  enables  us 
to  understand  how  it  is  that  religious  creeds 
and  dogmas  may  differ  radically  among 
those  in  whom  the  religious  spirit  is  equally 
emphasised.  We  have  in  the  establishment 
of  these  creeds  and  dogmas  an  example  of 
the  habit  of  man,  already  referred  to,  which 
leads  him  to  the  invention  of  formulae  which 
serve  to  make  his  instinctive  or  quasi-instinc- 
tive modes  of  action  appear  reasonable. 
These  creeds  and  dogmas  are  formulations  of 
modes  of  thought  which  to  those  who  hold 
them  seem  to  make  rational  their  religious 
devotion ;  but  in  my  view  they  are  not  of  the 
essence  of  religion. 

I  would  not,  however,  be  thought  to  make 
light  of  the  importance  of  these  religious 
doctrines.  While  they  do  not  appear  to  me 
to  be  of  the  essence  of,  they  certainly  must 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES       179 

be  held  to  be  very  significant  adjuncts  to, 
religion;  and  often  important  aids  to  the 
attainment  of  the  religious  attitude. 

And  here  we  must  bear  in  mind  the  signifi- 
cance and  proper  evaluation  of  what  is  tra- 
ditional, to  which  I  have  already  drawn  at- 
tention. Some  of  these  doctrines  have  come 
down  to  us  from  the  ages,  as  the  best  expres- 
sion, by  the  best  of  men,  of  all  that  they  have 
found  helpful  to  them  in  the  strengthening  of 
their  religious  life.  And  as  such  we  should 
do  ill  to  depreciate  their  significance. 

We  must  remember  too  that  special  concep- 
tions of  truth  do  not  persist  through  long 
ages,  among  an  advancing  people,  unless, 
notwithstanding  their  failings  in  particulars, 
they  do  in  large  measure  express  truth.  If, 
then,  these  religious  doctrines  have  persisted 
through  many  generations,  it  is  clear  that 
they  must  in  large  measure  express  true  rela- 
tions between  religion  and  life. 

We  must  bear  in  mind  the  fact  that  there 
are  what  James  called  "  diverse  worlds  of 
reality":  that  what  is  real  from  one  point  of 
view  may  be  unreal  from  another.  And  ap- 
plying this  general  principle  to  the  realm  of 


180     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

Truth,  we  must  remember  that  what  is  true 
from  one  point  of  view  may  not  be  true  from 
a  diverse  point  of  view;  and  that  therefore 
doubt  in  relation  to  the  truth  of  a  given  doc- 
trine does  not  necessarily,  or  even  usually, 
mean  that  this  given  doctrine  is  utterly  false 
and  worthy  of  unqualified  rejection;  but 
means  merely  that  it  does  not  fully  meet  the 
demands  of  consistency,  and  requires  some 
restatement,  or  re-expression,  to  meet  these 
demands. 

The  time-honoured  religious  beliefs  speak 
of  the  long  experience  of  the  past,  as  do  our 
intuitions:  they  cannot  be  disdainfully  cast 
aside  without  great  risk;  for,  even  if  imper- 
fect, they  are  nevertheless  the  best  expres- 
sion of  truth  that  the  great  body  of  the  very 
noblest  of  men  in  the  past  have  been  able  to 
make. 

Bearing  this  in  mind,  we  must  remember 
also  that  we  weak  mortals  are  able  at  best  to 
attain  to  no  more  than  imperfect  conceptions 
of  the  full  truth ;  a  fact  which  is  emphasised 
when  we  recall  how  much  those  conceptions 
of  truth  held  by  us  in  our  mature  years  differ 
from  those  held  by  us  in  childhood.  And  we 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES      181 

must  remember  that  the  young,  and  those 
less  enlightened  than  ourselves,  are  unable 
to  grasp  adequately  the  meanings  of  those 
elements  in  creeds  and  dogmas  which  yield 
hesitancy  and  doubt  in  us. 

I  myself  can  see  nothing  but  evil  in  cutting 
off  the  child,  and  the  less  intelligent,  from 
those  beliefs  which  have  come  down  to  us 
through  ages  from  our  religious  forefathers. 
By  such  action  we  deprive  them  of  that  sup- 
port in  the  attainment  of  the  religious  atti- 
tude which  these  fundamental  beliefs  have 
given  to  countless  men  and  women  in  the 
past.  And  what  do  we  offer  them  in  their 
place?  Nothing  more  than  conceptions  of 
our  own  wrhich  they  cannot  grasp,  and  which 
therefore  cannot  influence  them  as  they  do 
us ;  conceptions,  moreover,  which  we  are  com- 
pelled to  agree  may  very  well  in  the  end 
prove  to  be  much  less  adequate  expressions 
of  the  full  truth  than  those  we  would  have 
them  discard. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  must  also  bear 
in  mind  the  significance  and  proper  evalua- 
tion of  the  insight  of  the  individual  where  it 
conflicts  with  what  is  traditional.  I,  again, 


182     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

would  be  the  last  to  deprecate  attempts  to 
re-express  religious  truths  in  terms  that  shall 
remove  our  hesitancies  and  doubts;  for  in 
such  attempts  alone  is  there  any  hope  of  our 
gaining  re-expressions  that  shall  embody  the 
real  truth.  I  would  urge,  however,  that  such 
attempts  should  be  made  most  tentatively, 
and  in  a  manner  that  will  not  disturb  those 
who  cannot  fully  comprehend  the  meaning  of 
our  supposedly  deeper  insight;  recognising 
always  that  our  attempted  re-expression  of 
the  truth  is  not  unlikely  to  prove  as  inade- 
quate as  that  which  we  would  displace. 

This  view,  that  the  significance  of  religious 
expressions  lies  in  the  emphasis  of  restraint 
which  brings  into  prominence  the  voice  of 
conscience,  may  seem  strange  to  those  who 
are  accustomed  to  think  of  the  religious  life 
as  especially  evidenced  by  certain  forms  of 
activity;  of  zeal  in  the  conversion  of  others, 
and  of  zeal  in  good  works.  Some  one  per- 
haps may  say :  * '  Then  you  would  hold  up  as 
the  ideal  religious  man  St.  Simeon  Stylites, 
who  lived  his  life  on  the  top  of  a  column; 
or  the  Indian  ascetic  who  is  satisfied  with 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ISSUES      183 

the  continuous  contemplation  of  Ms  navel?'* 
The  view  I  am  suggesting,  however,  in- 
volves no  such  contention.  The  religious  zeal 
of  which  we  are  speaking  is  usually  evi- 
denced among  men  and  women  at  large  in 
the  following  of  the  guidance  of  some  revered 
leader,  some  prophet,  some  saint.  But  in  it- 
self this  zeal  in  these  followers  of  the  prophet 
is  quite  apart  from  their  religious  experi- 
ences as  such;  although  the  impulse  to  do 
what  the  leader  directs  is  from  time  to  time 
strengthened  by  religious  observances,  which 
result  in  the  recognition  of  the  dictates  of 
conscience  that  might  not  have  been  noted 
had  not  the  leader  called  attention  to  them. 
And  in  this  leader  himself,  this  zeal  is  again 
quite  apart  from  his  religious  experiences  as 
such ;  it  is  the  natural  reaction  of  the  vigor- 
ous man  whose  thought  is  turned  into  new 
channels  as  the  result  of  the  guidance  of  the 
voice  of  conscience  heard  under  such  condi- 
tions of  restraint  as  religious  ceremonial  in- 
volves. 

All  habits  of  action,  and  among  them 
habits  of  religious  expression,  are  means  to 
an  end.  In  the  case  of  religious  expression 


184     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

the  end  is  right  living ;  and  the  expression  it- 
self the  means  to  this  end.  But  men  very 
generally  tend  to  concentrate  their  attention 
upon  the  means,  and  to  forget  the  end.  And 
this  is  the  case  with  such  religious  devotees 
as  the  extreme  ascetics  just  referred  to. 
Their  attention  is  fixed  on  the  religious  cere- 
monial, which  is  the  means ;  rather  than  upon 
the  guidance  of  life,  which  is  the  end.  For 
the  real  religious  spirit  we  must  look  to  its 
influence  upon  the  activities  of  the  masses  of 
men  who  do  not  carry  the  ceremonials  to  ex- 
cessive extremes,  but  who  gain  in  connection 
with  these  ceremonials  the  inspiration  for 
their  guidance  in  active  life. 

Thus  it  is  that  we  often  find  more  true  re- 
ligious feeling,  and  greater  earnestness  in 
following  religious  guidance,  among  the  laity, 
than  among  the  priestly  class  who  find  them- 
selves called  upon  to  deal  too  continuously 
with  religious  ceremonial. 

Many  a  man  too  who  professedly  rejects 
religion,  but  who  eagerly  watches  for  the 
guidance  of  conscience,  is  in  fact  a  truly  re- 
ligious man,  even  though  he  does  not  attach 
himself  formally  to  any  religious  body. 


CHAPTER  VI 
OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY 


As  has  been  remarked  in  an  earlier  chapter, 
one  of  the  most  encouraging  signs  leading  us 
to  hope  for  the  realisation  of  the  ideal  of 
peace  is  found  in  the  very  general  desire  on 
the  part  of  all  the  nations  involved  in  the 
present  war  to  disclaim  responsibility  for  its 
beginning. 

We  have  here  something  almost  new  in  the 
history  of  wars.  The  potentates  of  old  boast- 
ed of  their  initiation  of  wars  of  aggression; 
and  in  no  other  case  in  modern  warfare  has 
there  been  so  general  an  agreement  that  a 
Nation  is  called  upon  to  give  excuse  to  the 
world  for  its  warlike  action. 

This  is  interesting  in  itself,  in  the  first 
place,  because  the  attribution  of  responsi- 
bility is  inconsistent  with  fatalistic  concep- 
tions, which  would  lead  men  to  feel  that 
war  is  due  to  causes  quite  beyond  human  in- 

185 


186     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

telligent  control.  And  the  fact  that  there  is  a 
general  agreement  that  some  set  of  men,  or 
some  race,  is  responsible  for  this  war,  shows 
that  people  at  large  do  not  feel  any  real  belief 
in  the  fatalistic  doctrine  that  war  must  neces- 
sarily arise  from  time  to  time,  because  it  is 
the  expression  of  natural  laws  of  our  being; 
a  fatalistic  doctrine  which  we  have  already 
seen  to  be  unwarranted  in  fact. 

When  we  turn  to  questions  relating  to  the 
fixation  of  responsibilities  for  war,  we  are 
met  at  the  start  by  a  subtle  argument  that 
aims  to  show  that  the  conception  of  responsi- 
bility in  the  very  nature  of  things  cannot  ap- 
ply to  war  at  all;  just  as  we  have  seen  it  is 
contended  that  the  conception  of  morality 
cannot  apply  to  war.  Our  attention  is  called 
to  the  fact  that  responsibility  can  only  be  at- 
tributed to  conscious  individuals;  and  that, 
as  war  is  due  to  relations  between  States 
which  as  such  are  not  conscious  entities, 
therefore  the  concept  of  responsibility  cannot 
be  applied  to  the  nations  as  such,  or  to  the 
initiation  of  war  in  which  nations  engage. 

This  view  as  to  the  nature  of  the  State  is 
I  think  sound.  But  it  does  not  lead  us  to  lay 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    187 

aside  all  consideration  of  responsibility  in  re- 
gard to  war;  it  rather  brings  us  to  the 
conviction  that  so  far  as  responsibility  for 
war  obtains  it  must  rest  upon  the  individual 
men  and  women  who  go  to  make  up  the  State. 
We  see  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  indi- 
viduals composing  a  State  to  shift  responsi- 
bility upon  the  State  itself. 

Half  appreciating  this,  the  ordinary  citizen 
nevertheless  comes  to  look  upon  the  "Gov- 
ernment" as  the  personification  of  the  State; 
and  thus  thinks  to  shift  his  responsibility  as 
regards  war  upon  the  Government.  We  are 
all  too  likely,  for  instance,  to  feel  that  the 
people  of  Austria,  or  Germany,  or  Russia  are 
not  responsible  for  the  present  war ;  that  the 
responsibility  rests  upon  the  autocratic  Gov- 
ernments that  determined  upon  the  actions 
that  brought  it  about.  So  again  the  citizens 
of  the  United  States  are  too  likely  to  feel  that 
they  had  no  responsibility  for  their  late  war 
with  Spain. 

But  we  cannot  get  away  from  the  fact  that 
no  Government  would  be  what  it  is  but  for 
the  nature  of  the  individuals  that  are  gov- 
erned. In  the  autocratic  Governments,  where 


188     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

the  ruling  class  assume  pre-eminent  powers 
of  direction,  greater  responsibility  rests 
upon  the  political  leaders  than  upon  the  com- 
mon citizens;  but  even  there  the  rulers  can- 
not act  without  regard  to  the  willingness  of 
their  subjects  to  be  led.  In  the  great  democ- 
racies the  responsibilities  are  much  more 
widely  distributed.  As  we  begin  to  gain  a 
clear  view  of  the  situations  that  led  to  the  con- 
test with  Spain  above  referred  to,  we  see  that 
this  war  was  declared  unwillingly  by  the  ex- 
ecutive, and  only  because  it  appeared  that 
the  great  majority  of  the  politically  import- 
ant citizens  of  the  United  States  demanded  it. 
All  this  leads  us  to  ask,  What  are  the  limits 
of  our  individual  responsibility  in  general,  of 
which  this  responsibility  in  relation  to  war  is 
a  special  instance?  And  to  this  question  I 
shall  turn  before  we  give  attention  to  our 
special  problem. 

In  studies  of  this  nature  it  is  always  help- 
ful to  clear  insight  to  imagine  oneself  freed 
from  the  preconceptions  by  which  one  is 
usually  handicapped;  and  with  this  end  in 
view  I  shall  beg  the  reader  to  consider  cer- 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    189 

tain  facts  as  they  would  appear  to  an  obser- 
ver entirely  unprejudiced  by  our  habitually 
careless  use  of  language,  and  interested  in 
the  careful  study  of  human  behaviour,  yet 
at  the  moment  sorely  puzzled  in  his  attempts 
to  discover  the  principles  that  guide  us  in 
those  of  our  activities  which  we  broadly  de- 
scribe as  our  punitive  procedure. 

He  may  be  supposed  to  have  watched  the 
parents  and  guardians  of  young  children  who 
have  committed  some  breach  of  common 
morality — who  have  lied,  for  instance ;  he  will 
then  have  often  noted  a  wide  divergence  of 
opinion  among  these  guardians,  some  holding 
that  the  child  is  too  young  to  be  punished  for 
such  a  fault,  while  others  insist  that  it  should 
be  disciplined ;  the  result  being  that  the  child 
is  punished  in  some  cases,  and  in  others  is 
not.  Then  again,  he  may  have  observed  that 
in  certain  cases  a  man  who  has  committed 
murder  is  put  to  death ;  while  in  other  cases, 
where  no  one  questions  the  killing  by  the  ac- 
cused, the  murderer  is  merely  placed  apart 
from  the  community  at  large,  and  is  there 
held  under  conditions  which  permit  him  to 
enjoy  a  certain  amount,  and  often  a  large 


190     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

amount,  of  liberty,  being  generally  very  well 
housed  and  fed,  provided  with  necessary  med- 
ical care,  and  on  the  whole  made  far  more 
comfortable  than  the  average  free  poor  man. 

He  will  be  likely  to  assume  that  we  must 
be  guided  by  some  principle  in  these  matters, 
for  he  will  have  noticed  more  or  less  serious 
disagreements  arising  between  parents  be- 
cause of  their  differences  of  opinion  in  re- 
gard to  the  disciplining  of  their  children; 
and  will  have  listened  to  long-drawn-out 
wrangles  in  the  courts  in  relation  to  the  prop- 
er course  of  action  in  regard  to  the  mur- 
derer. But  he  will  be  likely  to  say  that  such 
observations  as  those  above  referred  to  leave 
him  altogether  unable  to  comprehend  what 
this  principle  can  be. 

The  ordinary  man  among  us  will,  however, 
be  quite  ready  to  tell  him  that  our  principle 
is  this:  we  intend  to  punish  those  who 
are  guilty,  and  no  others ;  and  the  reason 
why  some  children  who  lie,  and  some  men 
who  kill  others,  go  unpunished  is  that 
they  are  not  responsible.  The  parent  who 
does  not  punish  his  child  for  lying  believes 
him  to  be  too  young  to  be  responsible.  The 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    191 

murderer  who  is  not  put  to  death  is  one  who 
has  been  judged  insane,  and  therefore  irre- 
sponsible. In  the  end  we  make  everything 
depend  upon  the  distinction  between  respon- 
sibility and  irresponsibility. 

If  we  answered  our  disinterested  observer 
thus  he  might  well  remark,  however,  that  our 
practice  in  many  cases  certainly  does  not  con- 
form to  any  such  principle.  He  might  say, 
"You  hold  that  you  would  punish  the  guil- 
ty, and  would  not  punish  those  who  are  not 
guilty.  But  do  you  really  always  aim  to 
punish  the  guilty?  Think  of  that  case,  of 
which  you  have  read  such  thrilling  accounts 
in  your  papers  lately,  of  the  girl  who  killed 
her  false  lover,  and  who  gloried  in  her  deed. 
She  surely  was  guilty  by  her  own  acknow- 
ledgment ;  yet  your  jury  set  her  free. 

"And  is  it  true  that  you  aim  not  to  punish 
those  who  are  not  guilty?  You  attribute 
guilt,  I  take  it,  only  in  case  the  acts  of  the 
person  accused  are  judged  to  have  been  delib- 
erate and  volitional,  and  in  case  they  produce 
harmful  results.  But  I  have  seen  an  excep- 
tionally loving  mother  punish  her  child  be- 
cause she  carelessly  overturned  a  table,  and 


192     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

thereby  destroyed  some  valuable  faience: 
certainly  the  mother  had  no  reason  to  think 
that  her  child  acted  voluntarily  with  evil  in- 
tent. And  so  I  have  watched  the  proceedings 
in  your  courts  where  a  chauffeur  in  a  difficult 
position,  making  an  error  of  judgment,  was 
shown  to  have  run  down  and  killed  a  pedes- 
trian; and  who  was  punished  with  no  little 
severity,  although  you  surely  could  not  assert 
that  he  killed  the  man  intentionally.  No,  I  do 
not  see  that  you  are  justified  in  your  asser- 
tion that  you  aim  to  punish  the  guilty,  or 
that  you  do  not  intend  to  punish  those  who 
are  not  guilty. 

"But  passing  over  these  inconsistencies, 
you  will  have  difficulty  in  showing  that,  if  a 
man's  voluntary  acts  yield  evil  result,  you 
hold  him  guilty  unless  he  is  irresponsible.  For 
instance,  I  heard  lately  of  an  ardent  moun- 
taineer who  over-persuaded  a  novice  to  at- 
tempt the  ascent  of  a  difficult  peak,  in  the 
course  of  which  the  novice  was  killed.  Here 
was  a  voluntary  act  on  the  part  of  the  experi- 
enced mountaineer  which  yielded  evil  result ; 
and  it  would  seem  that,  under  the  principles 
you  profess  to  follow,  he  could  only  be  re- 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY     198 

lieved  from  the  imputation  of  guilt  by  the 
presentation  of  proof  of  his  irresponsibility. 
But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  while  I  could  find  no 
one  who  held  him  to  be  guilty,  I  found  that 
every  one  held  him  to  have  been  responsible 
for  the  death  of  the  novice. ' ' 

I  think  it  must  be  agreed  that  this  indict- 
ment of  inconsistency  between  the  assumed 
principle  referred  to  and  our  actual  prac- 
tice is  fully  justified ;  and  that  this  inconsist- 
ency involves  not  a  few  unfortunate  results. 
Such  being  the  case  it  would  seem  not  im- 
probable that  our  troubles  may  be  due  to  a 
misunderstanding  of  the  meanings  of  some 
at  least  of  the  terms  we  use  in  the  enuncia- 
tion of  our  principle.  It  will  be  worth  our 
while,  therefore,  to  consider  the  meaning 
that  is  commonly  attributed  to  the  concept  of 
responsibility  upon  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  whole  assumed  principle  under  discussion 
is  based,  and  to  inquire  whether  this  attribu- 
tion is  justified. 

As  soon  as  we  turn  our  thought  in  this 
direction  we  note  that  while  we  all  appreciate 
what  is  referred  to  when  we  speak  of  the 
sense  of  responsibility,  we  certainly  do  not 


194     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

find  it  easy  to  indicate  exactly  what  we  mean 
when  we  use  the  term,  nor  what  this  meaning 
implies.  Many  will  be  ready  to  say  offhand 
that  responsibility  is  connected  with  all  of 
our  voluntary  acts  that  yield  evil  result.  But 
when  we  come  to  think  of  it  we  see  that  we 
sometimes  apply  the  conception  as  well  to 
acts  that  we  delight  to  contemplate  because 
they  involve  good  results.  We  think  of  Lin- 
coln as  responsible  for  the  freeing  of  the 
slave,  as  well  as  of  Wilkes  Booth  as  responsi- 
ble for  Lincoln's  untimely  death. 

Nevertheless  it  must  be  granted  that  we 
usually  think  of  responsibility  only  in  connec- 
tion with  deeds  involving  evil  result.  When 
things  go  happily  we  do  not  often  take  note  of 
responsibility;  but  usually  only  when  things 
go  badly.  We  may,  however,  leave  this  fact 
out  of  account  for  the  present,  merely  ob- 
serving that  at  all  events  we  usually  connect 
the  notion  of  responsibility  with  certain  of 
our  voluntary  deeds.  We  feel  that  responsi- 
bility rests  upon  us  because  we  have  decided 
upon,  and  put  into  execution,  certain  acts ;  in 
other  words,  because  we  have  expressed  our 
creativeness  in  determining  certain  ends  to  be 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    195 

sought,  and  in  choosing  means  to  the  realisa- 
tion of  these  ends. 

Responsibility  thus  appears  to  be  bound  up 
with  the  creativeness  of  our  voluntary  acts; 
and  we  are  likely  to  say  that  acts  which  do 
not  involve  this  volition  and  creativeness  in- 
volve no  responsibility.  We  contrast  respon- 
sibility with  irresponsibility. 

But  let  us  remind  ourselves  what  this  ex- 
perience of  volition  is,  and  what  these  acts  are 
that  involve  no  volition.  Volition,  when  it  is 
analysed,  turns  out  to  be  due  to  a  clash  be- 
tween contradictory  impulses  or  incompati- 
ble ideas,  which  involves  choice  of  one  and 
rejection  of  the  other.  But  this  clash  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  each  of  these  incompatible 
ideas  or  contradictory  impulses  has  a  ten- 
dency to  develop ;  so  what  we  experience  as  a 
volitional  act,  or  act  of  will,  turns  out  to  be 
merely  a  specially  vivid  form  of  what  the 
psychologists  call  conation,  or  Will  in  a 
broad  sense,  which  is  a  general  characteristic 
of  all  our  mental  life. 

Conation — or  Will,  if  we  choose  to  use  that 
term  in  a  very  broad  sense — is  our  name  for 
that  characteristic  which  appears  in  the  fact 


196     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

that  each  mental  element  tends  to  move  be- 
yond itself.  Each  mental  item  has  what 
the  psychologists  call  a  prospective  quality. 
Each  sensation  is  found  to  be  leading  us  on 
to  the  appreciation  of  an  object;  each  emo- 
tion tells  of  action  that  results  in  value  to 
the  organism;  each  desire  looks  forward  to 
means  tending  to  its  fruition;  each  thought 
is  seen  to  be  " budding,"  as  William  James 
would  have  said,  and  leading  to  new  thoughts 
quite  other  than  itself. 

This  fact  that  our  volitional  acts  are  only 
special  forms  of  conation,  which  is  a  general 
mental  characteristic,  shows  us  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  draw  a  sharp  and  clear  line  be- 
tween volitional  and  non-volitional  acts ;  and 
this  leads  us  to  question  whether  we  are  right 
in  assuming  that  we  can  limit  responsibility 
to  volitional  acts.  And  when  we  ask  whether 
we  actually  proceed  in  our  every-day  life  as 
if  this  assumption  were  warranted  we  find 
that  we  do  not.  For  we  think  of  the  coward, 
who  flees  for  his  life  when  a  grizzly  bear 
pounces  upon  him  and  his  companion,  as  re- 
sponsible for  the  killing  of  the  man  he  de- 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY     197 

serts;  although  without  doubt  he  would  dis- 
claim all  evil  intent,  and  would  say  that  his 
act  of  running  was  purely  instinctive  and 
beyond  his  control.  And  we  apply  responsi- 
bility to  the  violent  acts  of  the  low  negro, 
although,  were  he  sufficiently  intelligent,  he 
would  without  question  contend  that  he  did 
not  act  volitionally,  but  was  overwhelmed  by 
uncontrollable  instinctive  passion. 

But  here  our  disinterested  observer  may 
very  well  interpose  a  pertinent  question. 
"You  are  ready  to  grant  that  responsibility 
applies  to  both  volitional  and  to  non-voli- 
tional acts ;  how  then  do  you  distinguish  re- 
sponsibility from  irresponsibility?  You  say 
that  the  very  small  child  is  too  young  to 
be  responsible;  that  at  birth  it  is  irrespon- 
sible, and  that  at  some  later  period  it  may 
be  held  to  have  acquired  responsibility. 
Now  evidently  if  this  is  so  the  becoming 
responsible  must  be  a  definite  and  impor- 
tant event.  Do  you  note  any  mark  that 
indicates  that  any  such  definite  event  occurs 
in  the  life  of  a  child — that  there  is  any 
recognisable  moment  of  transition  between 


198     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

responsibility  and  irresponsibility  in  the 
course  of  its  growth?" 

I  fear  we  shall  have  to  answer  that  we  do 
not  note  any  marks  of  such  a  transition. 

"So  again,"  we  may  suppose  him  to  pro- 
ceed, "you  say  that  the  sane  are  responsible, 
and  the  insane  irresponsible.  Yet  upon  close 
scrutiny  I  fail  to  find  that  you  have  any 
grounds  whatever  for  drawing  a  sharp  line 
of  distinction  between  sanity  and  insanity. 
No  man  or  woman  is  altogether  normal.  All 
of  you  are  fortunately  abnormal  to  some  ex- 
tent ;  if  you  were  not  you  would  not  be  so  in- 
teresting as  you  are." 

When  we  consider  these  remarks  of  our 
disinterested  observer  I  think  we  are  com- 
pelled to  agree  that  he  is  right  here  too.  We 
see  that  the  difference  between  sanity  and 
insanity  is  a  matter  of  degree,  and  that  the 
line  between  the  two  is  one  drawn  merely  for 
convenience  to  meet  practical  needs,  to  enable 
us  to  determine  how  we  shall  act  towards 
this  man  or  that;  the  truth  of  this  becoming 
manifest  when  we  consider  the  wild  discrep- 
ancies of  testimony  given  in  murder  trials  by 
different  expert  alienists.  So  we  perceive 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY     199 

that  the  distinction  between  responsibility 
and  irresponsibility  based  upon  the  distinc- 
tion between  sanity  and  insanity  fails  us. 

Clearly  these  difficulties  should  lead  us  to 
inquire  with  care  as  to  the  real  meaning  of 
responsibility:  and  in  the  beginning  we  may 
well  ask  what  the  ordinary  intelligent  man  un- 
derstands by  the  word,  to  that  end  naturally 
turning  to  the  dictionary  definitions. 

When  we  do  so  we  find  that  the  lawyers 
have  to  a  great  extent  determined  the  mean- 
ing attached  to  the  word ;  and  that,  under  the 
usage  established  by  them,  responsibility  is 
usually  employed  as  the  equivalent  of 
accountability.  The  man  is  said  to  be  respon- 
sible for  a  debt,  or  responsible  for  an  act, 
when  he  is  held  accountable  for  the  debt,  or 
accountable  for  the  results  of  his  act. 

But  here  we  note  that  accountability  is  ap- 
plied only  to  deeds  that  involve  disagreeable 
duties,  such  as  paying  one's  debts;  or  to 
those  acts  that  yield  evil  results.  This  at 
once  arouses  suspicion  as  to  the  accuracy  of 
the  lawyer's  definition  of  responsibility  in 
terms  of  accountability;  for,  as  we  have 


200     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

noted,  responsibility  is  applicable  also  to 
deeds  that  give  us  pleasure  in  performance, 
and  that  yield  good  result,  where  the  notion 
of  accountability  does  not  apply. 

Then  again  we  note  that  accountability  is  a 
matter  of  expediency;  and  expediency  is  de- 
termined by  each  man  for  himself,  and  must 
vary  with  the  circumstances  under  which  the 
deed  was  performed,  and  those  which  exist 
when  we  pass  judgment.  But  surely  no  one 
of  us  can  rest  satisfied  with  a  definition  of 
responsibility  that  is  based  upon  expediency. 

All  this  leads  us  to  ask  whether  it  is  really 
true  that  we  think  of  responsibility  and  ac- 
countability as  equivalent  terms.  Do  we  feel 
ourselves  to  be  responsible  only  when  we 
judge  ourselves  to  be  accountable? 

I  am  inclined  to  think  it  will  be  generally 
admitted  that  we  often  feel  a  sense  of  re- 
sponsibility when  we  have  no  possible  ground 
for  fear  of  accountability.  We  feel  responsi- 
ble for  the  guidance  of  certain  young  peo- 
ple— for  the  example  we  have  set  them,  per- 
haps— when  no  one  could  possibly  hold  us 
accountable  for  the  action  we  deplore.  This 
surely  indicates  that,  while  we  do  not  usually 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    201 

think  of  ourselves  as  accountable  unless  we 
feel  responsibility,  nevertheless  responsi- 
bility has  a  broader  significance  than  ac- 
countability. 

All  this  raises  the  question  whether  our  at- 
tachment of  the  meaning  of  accountability 
to  responsibility  may  not  be  a  purely  adven- 
titious one.  As  we  have  seen,  we  seldom 
bother  ourselves  to  worry  about  the  applica- 
tion of  responsibility  unless  we  happen  to 
wish  to  find  who  is  at  fault  for  a  certain  un- 
toward occurrence.  So  also  our  lawyers,  who 
have  practically  written  our  dictionary  defi- 
nitions, deal  only  with  responsibility  when 
they  are  concerned  to  determine  accountabil- 
ity. This  would  suggest  that  the  meaning  of 
accountability  may  have  become  attached  to 
the  conception  of  responsibility  merely  be- 
cause the  most  striking  cases  where  search 
is  made  for  the  marks  of  responsibility  hap- 
pen to  be  those  where  search  is  made  for 
ground  for  the  application  of  accountability 
and  guilt.  And  if  this  is  true  it  would  seem 
probable  that  we  have  the  real  basis  of  our 
difficulties  in  the  fact  that  we  mistake  this 


202     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

adventitious  meaning  of  accountability  for 
the  true  meaning  of  responsibility. 

This  leads  us  to  note  that  in  the  minds  of 
those  who  in  the  far-away  days  began  to 
think  in  terms  of  what  has  developed  into 
our  conception  of  responsibility,  the  import- 
ant element  was  related  to  questions  of  iden- 
tification; and  to  observe  that  this  notion  is 
still  involved  in  all  our  more  developed  forms 
of  this  conception.  This  being  the  case  it 
would  appear  clear  that  the  fundamental  no- 
tion upon  which  the  conception  of  responsi- 
bility is  based  is  not  that  of  accountability  at 
all,  but  is  that  of  authorship. 

And  if  this  is  true,  then  it  is  easy  to  see 
how  we  have  come  to  think  as  we  do ;  for  as 
man  has  developed,  and  as  his  modes  of  pro- 
cedure have  become  less  immediate  and  more 
indirect,  questions  as  to  accountability  must 
of  course  have  soon  become  intimately  con- 
nected with  questions  as  to  identification. 

But  if  we  agree  to  this  we  are  led  to  note  a 
further  implication  of  very  broad  import. 
For  in  saying  that  a  man  is  responsible  be- 
cause of  his  authorship  we  mean  to  say  that 
he  would  not  now  be  what  he  is  but  for  the 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    203 

act  which  implies  authorship  and  responsi- 
bility. And  this  carries  with  it  the  further 
implication  that  the  individual  man  of  any 
moment  would  not  be  what  he  is  but  for  the 
previous  existence  in  connection  with  his 
body  of  all  the  characteristics  which  in  the 
past  have  led  to  all  the  special  modes  of  his 
behaviour  with  which  his  fellow-men  are 
acquainted. 

This  I  think  we  must  grant.  It  is  certainly 
little  short  of  absurd  to  think  that  I  am  the 
same  man  now  that  I  should  be  if  I  had  not 
acted  as  I  did  yesterday.  You  may  not  note 
the  difference ;  but  clearly  my  act  must  have 
made  an  alteration  in  my  nature,  for  if  I 
persist  in  repeating  that  act  of  yesterday 
you  will  note  the  change  in  saying  that  I  have 
become  dominated  by  an  acquired  habit. 

It  would  thus  appear  that  bound  up  with, 
and  of  the  very  essence  of,  my  conception  of 
responsibility  is  the  appreciation  of  the  fact 
that  I,  as  I  exist  this  moment,  would  not  be 
what  I  am  but  for  the  previous  existence  in 
connection  with  my  body  of  all  the  character- 
istics which  in  the  past  have  led  to  all  my 
special  modes  of  behaviour.  Every  single  act 


204     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

of  my  past  has  had  its  influence  in  making  me 
the  kind  of  person  I  am  this  minute. 

This  result,  I  am  sure,  we  are  compelled  to 
accept ;  and  that  it  is  commonly  agreed  to  be- 
comes clear  when  we  observe  that  in  judging 
a  man's  motives  which  led  to  a  criminal  act 
we  endeavour  to  take  into  account  the  gen- 
eral character  of  the  man;  that  is,  we  en- 
deavour to  discover  the  kind  of  man  he 
usually  is,  and  therefore  now  is;  and  that 
means  that  we  base  our  judgment  as  to  his 
responsibility  and  guilt,  not  upon  the  evi- 
dence we  have  of  his  exceptional  criminal  act, 
but  upon  the  assumption  that  he  would  not  be 
what  he  now  is  but  for  the  previous  existence 
in  connection  with  his  body  of  all  the  charac- 
teristics that  he  has  in  the  past  expressed  by 
all  his  acts ;  holding  that  his  character  cannot 
be  properly  judged  if  we  merely  note  the  char- 
acteristics evidenced  by  his  exceptional  crim- 
inal act. 

But  if  we  agree  that  the  essence  of  the  no- 
tion of  responsibility  lies  in  the  recognition 
of  the  fact  that  a  man  would  not  be  what  he 
is  this  minute  but  for  all  his  past  activities, 
then  we  must  also  agree  that  responsibility, 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    205 

which  is  based  upon  the  appreciation  of  au- 
thorship, cannot  be  held  to  relate  to  some  of  a 
man's  activities  and  not  to  others,  but  must 
relate  to  all  of  his  activities.  Ami  this  is 
certainly  an  important  point;  for  it  enables 
us  to  overcome  the  difficulty  above  noted 
where  we  attempted,  and  failed,  to  draw  a 
line  between  voluntary  and  involuntary  acts 
as  related  to  responsibility. 

There  is,  however,  a  still  more  significant 
outcome  of  this  argument.  For  if  responsi- 
bility applies  to  all  of  man's  activities,  then 
very  evidently  our  thesis  leads  us  to  the  im- 
portant conclusion  that  we  are  responsible 
for  all  of  our  acts;  or,  in  other  words,  that 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  irresponsibility  at 
all. 

Certainly  this  is  a  somewhat  startling  re- 
sult of  the  course  of  thought  to  which  we 
have  been  led.  Let  us  see  whether  this  view 
helps  us  in  solving  the  very  serious  dif- 
ficulties raised  in  connection  with  the  fact 
that,  while  we  make  the  distinction  between 
responsibility  and  irresponsibility,  we  are  ut- 


206     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

terly  unable  to  suggest  any  mark  of  this  dis- 
tinction between  the  two. 

If  we  consider  first  the  wrangles  in  our 
courts  as  to  the  sanity  or  insanity  of  murder- 
ers, we  at  once  see  that  the  difficulty  which 
yields  them  is  overcome  if  we  hold  that  no 
man  can  ever  be  irresponsible;  for  then  it 
appears  that  we  must  agree  that  the  mur- 
derer was  responsible,  whether  we  show  him 
to  have  been  what  we  call  sane  or  insane. 
The  problem  before  the  court  would  then 
appear  to  be  one  in  connection  with  which 
questions  as  to  responsibility  are  quite  irrele- 
vant. The  court  should  under  such  a  view  be 
concerned  merely  to  determine  whether  the 
man  before  it  is  accountable  for  the  crime 
and  therefore  guilty ;  and  if  he  is,  whether  he 
should  be  allowed  to  go  free  because  he  hap- 
pens to  be  a  man  of  weak  intelligence  and 
self-control,  and  was  perhaps  subjected  at 
the  moment  of  his  criminal  act  to  unusual 
temptation  which  is  not  likely  to  be  repeated. 

Again,  holding  this  view,  we  should  say 
that  as  there  is  no  such  thing  as  irresponsi- 
bility we  ought  not  to  expect  to  find  any  mo- 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    207 

ment  in  the  life  of  the  child  when  responsi- 
bility appears,  and  hence  should  not  expect  to 
find  special  marks  by  which  its  existence 
could  be  discovered.  For  if  responsibility  is 
based  upon  the  conception  of  authorship  it 
is  evident  that  the  child  becomes  a  responsi- 
ble being  when  at  birth  it  becomes  a  sep- 
arate individual.  And  to  one  who  is  re- 
pelled by  the  notion  that  the  babe  at  birth  is 
responsible  we  should  explain  that  his  repul- 
sion is  due  to  the  fact  that  he  has  come  to 
think  of  responsibility,  not  in  terms  of  au- 
thorship, but  in  terms  of  accountability.  We 
appreciate  that  the  babe  cannot  be  held  ac- 
countable for  its  acts,  and  guilty ;  and  assum- 
ing that  responsibility  means  accountability 
we  also  assume  that  it  is  not  responsible. 

But  as  a  matter  of  fact  we  all  tacitly  ac- 
knowledge that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  ir- 
responsibility in  our  very  treatment  of  the 
child.  We  may  argue  among  ourselves  as 
to  whether  he  is,  or  is  not,  to  be  held  respon- 
sible, using  the  term  as  the  equivalent  of  ac- 
countable ;  but  we  are  very  careful  not  to  let 
him  know  that  he  can  actually  ever  be  irre- 
sponsible for  his  acts.  We  realise  that  if  the 


208     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

child  finds  "I  couldn't  help  it"  an  effective 
plea,  then  we  reach  the  end  of  all  that  control 
and  discipline  which  are  so  important  in  the 
development  of  his  moral  character. 

And  upon  consideration  it  becomes  evident 
that  just  such  a  conception  of  the  meaning  of 
responsibility  is  of  necessity  tacitly  involved 
in  all  ethical  theory  worthy  of  attention ;  for 
it  is  difficult  to  see  how  any  treatment  of  hu- 
man character  and  human  behaviour  can 
lay  claim  to  rational  consistency  which  ac- 
cepts a  theory  that  we  are  at  times  respon- 
sible and  at  other  times  irresponsible,  with- 
out being  able  to  define  clearly  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  two  situations  involved ;  and 
this  we  have  seen  to  be  impossible. 

Evidently  this  view  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  irresponsibility  is  a  very  important 
proposition,  and  one  which  makes  our  moral 
life  seem  a  very  serious  business  indeed ;  for 
it  means  that  we  can  never  avoid  or  shift 
responsibility  for  any  of  our  acts  or  impulses 
to  action.  We  can  no  longer  claim  responsi- 
bility for  those  acts  of  ours  which  are  ap- 
plauded by  our  fellows,  and  disclaim  respon- 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    209 

sibility  for  such  as  yield  deplorable  results, 
as  we  are  so  often  inclined  to  do.  We  can  no 
longer  attempt  to  shift  the  responsibility  for 
certain  of  our  acts  upon  others  who  may  have 
influenced  our  lives  by  teaching  or  example; 
for  while  those  who  have  guided  us  are  re- 
sponsible for  such  guidance,  we  are  responsi- 
ble none  the  less  for  our  willingness  to  be 
guided,  and  for  the  acts  that  follow.  Nor  can 
we  longer  claim  irresponsibility  for  activities 
due  to  habits  acquired  voluntarily;  no,  nor 
even  for  those  actions  which  are  largely  due 
to  inherited  traits.  * 

We  are  also  led  to  certain  significant  con- 
siderations in  regard  to  the  current  notion 
that,  if  punishment  is  entirely  remitted  in  the 
granting  of  full  forgiveness,  all  burden,  not 
only  of  guilt,  but  also  of  responsibility,  is 
removed;  a  notion  that  is  of  course  unwar- 
ranted under  the  view  we  are  maintaining. 
No  remission  of  punishment  can  take  from 
the  fact  that  the  man's  present  character  is 

*  There  are  certain  apparent  difficulties  in  connection 
with  these  activities  that  are  what  we  call  "unconscious" 
and  "automatic,"  which  do  not  concern  us  here,  but  which 
should  be  met  in  any  thorough  study  of  the  subject.  Con- 
fer my  "Consciousness,"  pp.  623  ff.,  and  an  article  entitled 
"Responsibility"  in  the  Philosophical  Review,  September, 
1914,  for  a  fuller  treatment. 


210     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

what  it  is  partly  because  of  his  sinful  act  of 
the  past  that  is  now  forgiven ;  and  this  means 
that  his  responsibility  for  that  act  remains, 
notwithstanding  the  forgiveness.  But  this 
is  entirely  lost  to  sight  by  the  ordinary  re- 
former, and  by  the  ordinary  criminal  to  whom 
forgiveness  is  granted;  and  in  the  feeling 
that  all  responsibility  for  his  past  sinful  act 
is  obliterated  when  he  is  forgiven  we  have 
one  of  the  greatest  difficulties  connected  with 
the  regeneration  of  the  criminal  who  tends 
to  become  a  backslider ;  for  the  entertainment 
of  this  notion  leads  the  culprit  to  overlook 
the  fact  that  there  is  imminent  danger  that 
the  characteristics  of  his  past  self  which  led 
to  his  crime  may  again  become  dominant.  * 


*  No  one  will  question  the  fact  that  in  many  cases  it  is 
of  the  greatest  value  to  the  repentant  man  to  feel  that  in 
the  forgiveness  which  follows  repentance  the  whole  burden 
of  sin  is  cast  off  and  the  sinner  left  quite  free  to  begin  life 
anew;  this  value  to  the  repentant  man  being  due  to  the 
fact  that  in  connection  with  it  he  receives  courage  to  lead 
a  new  and  better  life.  But  if  this  notion  is  held  to  carry 
with  it  a  removal  of  all  responsibility  for  the  past  sinful 
act,  it  clearly  tends  to  place  the  reformed  man  off  his 
guard,  and  is  often  instrumental  in  producing  a  relapse 
into  his  old  evil  ways. 

No  such  result  would  follow,  however,  if  he  were  taught 
that  forgiveness  does  not  remove  his  responsibility  for  his 
past  sin.  All  the  courage  that  he  gains  in  the  struggle 
towards  a  better  life  is  given  in  the  recognition  of  forgive- 
ness. The  trouble  arises  because  the  repentant  sinner  IB 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    211 

We  may  now  return  to  the  main  subject  of 
our  study. 

In  my  view  we  must  accept,  without  any 
waiver,  the  view  that  responsibility  attaches 
to  all  our  acts  without  exception.  At  all 
events,  even  if  this  broad  inclusiveness  is 
not  granted,  the  case  as  presented  above 
serves  at  least  to  show  that  responsibility 
must  apply  to  all  but  those  of  our  activities 
that  we  speak  of  as  automatic  and  uncon- 
scious which  do  not  concern  us  in  the  present 
connection. 

If  this  is  true  then  the  burden  of  respon- 
sibility in  relation  to  war  is  brought  home  to 
each  one  of  us,  so  far  as  we  do  or  say  any- 
thing whatever  that  tends  to  strengthen  the 
sentiments  that  lead  to  war,  or  so  far  as  we 
fail  to  act  or  speak  in  furtherance  of  any 
methods  of  procedure  which  look  to  the  curb- 
ing of  warlike  attitudes. 

This  is  certainly  not  fully  realised  by  men 

led  by  the  current  teaching  to  think  that  responsibility  for 
the  past  sinful  act  is  thereby  also  removed.  If  it  were 
impressed  upon  him  that  responsibility  remains,  notwith- 
standing that  forgiveness  has  been  granted,  he  would  real- 
ise that  he  still  holds  in  his  nature  the  capacities  which 
in  the  past  led  to  the  evil  act,  and  would  be  more  likelv  to 
remain  constantly  on  his  guard  lest  his  old  self  which 
sinned  should  again  gain  the  mastery. 


212     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

at  large.  We  tend  to  think  of  governmental 
leaders  as  responsible,  forgetful  of  the  fact 
that  in  the  end  no  Government  could  engage 
in  war  did  it  not  feel  assured  that  the  com- 
mon people  would  support  it  in  its  action. 
We  tend  to  hold  the  " Yellow  Journals"  in  a 
measure  responsible  for  the  pressure  put 
upon  Governments  to  engage  in  war,  but  we 
do  not  stop  to  think  of  the  indirect  and  insen- 
sible effects  of  our  own  acts  and  words  which 
lead  such  Journals  to  find  their  "jingoism" 
profitable. 

The  importance  of  these  acts  and  words  is 
of  course  most  evident  when  they  emanate 
from  those  engaged  in  commercial  affairs, 
who  directly  or  indirectly  arouse  animosities 
among,  or  allow  themselves  to  entertain  ani- 
mosities towards,  those  of  other  races  with 
whom  they  have  business  relations.  But  it 
goes  farther  than  this.  Do  our  manufactur- 
ers of  implements  of  war  stop  to  think  of 
their  responsibility  for  warlike  measures? 
Is  it  consistent  with  a  firm  sense  of  responsi- 
bility in  respect  to  war  to  be  engaged  in 
money-making  by  the  manufacture  of  armour- 
plate,  and  "dreadnoughts,"  and  "subma- 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    213 

rines"?  Do  men  of  high  scientific  attain- 
ments stop  to  think  of  their  responsibilities 
when  they  devote  their  energies  to  the  devel- 
opment of  processes  that  make  modern  war 
so  terrible?  The  field-piece  of  the  day  is  as 
much  an  instrument  of  precision  as  the  most 
delicate  telescope. 

We  cannot,  however,  allow  ourselves  to  re- 
main content  to  blame  others.  Grave  respon- 
sibilities indeed  rest  upon  those  whose 
thoughts  and  acts  lead  directly  to  the  encour- 
agement of  those  influences  that  make  for 
war;  but  we  must  look  into  our  own  souls. 
For  after  all  the  commercial  and  scientific 
activities  just  referred  to  could  not  result  in 
war  unless  the  masses  of  ordinary  people  like 
ourselves  were  sympathetic  with  the  feelings 
of  those  who  are  thus  singled  out  for  our 
condemnation.  Yes,  each  one  of  us  must  bear 
some  measure  of  this  responsibility. 

II 

Responsibility  implies  duty.  The  two  are 
diverse  conceptions  derived  from  the  same 
facts  observed  from  different  points  of  view. 
We  can  have  no  duty  that  is  not  based  upon 


214     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

responsibility;  nor  can  any  responsibility 
exist  that  does  not  involve  a  duty.  So  if  we 
agree  that  each  one  of  us  has  a  responsibility 
in  relation  to  the  occurrence  of  war,  and  the 
strengthening  of  all  the  influences  that  go  to 
make  for  peace,  then  we  must  agree  that  each 
one  of  us  has  a  duty  to  perform  in  these  same 
directions. 

But  a  duty  can  only  yield  effective  result 
when  it  is  personally  felt.  No  one  can  force 
a  duty  upon  others.  The  most  he  can  do  is 
to  persuade  them,  so  that  they  may  come  to 
have  a  sense  of  duty.  Each  person  must  de- 
cide for  himself  or  herself  what  his  or  her 
duties  are. 

I  shall,  however,  make  no  effort  looking  to 
such  persuasion.  It  would  be  presumptuous 
for  me  to  do  so.  I  shall  merely  ask  my  read- 
ers in  closing  to  make  an  attempt  to  see  the 
duties  to  which  the  conclusions  we  have 
reached  in  our  study  seem  to  point. 

In  the  first  place,  if  we  are  convinced  that 
war  arises  because  of  the  existence  of  fight- 
ing instincts  in  individual  men,  we  surely 
should  do  what  we  can  to  curb  these  instincts 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    215 

as  they  manifest  themselves  in  the  individ- 
ual ;  and  should  make  an  effort  to  divert  their 
functioning  in  directions  that  do  not  involve 
fighting  between  individuals. 

In  these  moments  when  our  deepest  emo- 
tions are  aroused,  and  our  thought  is  concen- 
trated upon  the  broadest  of  social  move- 
ments, it  may  seem  little  less  than  trivial  to 
lay  stress  upon  the  traits  and  habits  of  so 
insignificant  a  being  as  the  common  individ- 
ual; but  I  am  convinced  that  unless  we  do 
take  thought  of  these  individualistic  trends 
of  action  we  shall  look  in  vain  for  the  realisa- 
tion of  our  ideal. 

Bearing  this  in  mind  we  should  endeavour 
to  break  down  the  foolish  sentiment  among 
boys  that  there  is  credit  in  being  a  good  fight- 
er ;  and  on  the  contrary,  should  feel  ourselves 
called  upon  to  teach  them  that  there  is  a 
higher  value  in  restraint  of  their  tendencies 
to  fight  than  there  is  in  giving  them  ex- 
pression; just  as  we  feel  ourselves  called 
upon  to  teach  the  youth  that  it  is  noble  to 
curb  his  natural  sexual  instincts. 

Beyond  this  we  should  remember  that  we 
may  most  easily  control  an  instinctive  ten- 


216     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

dency  by  avoiding  the  stimuli  which  usually 
lead  to  manifestations  of  its  expression.  We 
should  do  what  we  can  to  remove  the  tempta- 
tion to  fight  from  the  path  of  the  youth. 
This  means  the  taking  of  certain  steps  that 
imply  no  little  bravery  on  our  part ;  for  it  in- 
volves opposition  to  a  strong  public  opinion 
— involves  the  discouragement  of  all  sports 
that  imply  struggle  between  individuals  in 
physical  contact.* 
But  beyond  the  mere  removal  of  tempta- 


*  This  of  course  means  the  discouragement  of  boxing, 
wrestling,  and  football,  for  instance;  and  1  appreciate  that 
this  will  seem  to  many  a  radical,  as  well  as  an  exceedingly 
unpopular,  proposition;  but  I  am  convinced  that  we  shall 
never  succeed  in  our  effort  to  curb  man's  instincts  that 
result  in  war  until  we  thus  strike  at  its  very  roots.  It  will 
be  held  by  some  that  such  a  course  would  make  of  our 
youth  a  race  of  "mollycoddles";  but  this  claim  is  absurd 
on  its  face;  for  there  are  numerous  fine  sports  which  do 
not  involve  physical  contact,  and  which  at  the  same  time 
give  all  possible  opportunity  for  the  acquisition  of  courage, 
strength,  restraint,  skill,  quickness  and  accuracy  of  judg- 
ment. It  will  be  held  again  that  we  have  in  these  sports 
a  mode  of  katharsis,  so  to  speak,  which  enables  the  youth 
to  express  in  harmless  forms  his  fighting  instincts,  which 
otherwise  would  be  likely  to  manifest  themselves  in  danger- 
ous form.  How  vicious  an  argument  this  is  becomes  at 
once  very  clear  if  we  attempt  to  apply  a  similar  argu- 
ment to  the  sexual  instincts  of  the  youth,  in  connection 
with  which  we  have  become  very  generally  convinced  of 
the  importance  of  urging  him  to  avoid  the  temptations 
which  tend  to  arouse  the  instinctive  expression. 

We  may  as  well  face  the  fact  that  our  unwillingness  to 
discourage  such  sports  is  really  due  in  large  measure  to 
our  own  personal  enjoyment  of  the  imaginative  expression 
of  the  fighting  instincts;  and  that  until  we  learn  to  curb 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    £17 

tions,  we  should  aim  to  teach  our  youth  to 
avoid  the  hates  which  most  often  lead  to  out- 
bursts of  the  fighting  tendencies,  by  teaching 
him  the  values  of  liberality  of  spirit.  And 
more  positively  still  should  encourage  him  in 
all  directions  where  mutual  helpfulness  is  in- 
volved; should  foster  all  forms  of  "team 
work"  which  are  essential  to  success  in 
many  forms  of  endeavour;  and  this  is  fos- 
tered by  numerous  sports  that  are  not  sub- 
ject to  the  disadvantages  connected  with 
those  involving  struggle  in  physical  contact. 

these  instinctive  tendencies  in  ourselves  we  can  have  little 
hope  that  we  shall  be  able  to  strike  at  the  roots  of  the  war 
evil. 

This  foot-note  was  originally  contained  in  the  body  of 
the  text.  The  transfer  is  made  to  effect  what  I  feel  to  be 
a  justifiable  compromise  between  a  number  of  my  firm 
friends  and  myself.  They  argue  that  I  am  all  wrong  in 
this  particular  matter,  being  led  astray  by  my  ignorance  of 
the  nature  of  the  game  of  football  as  it  is  now  played ;  and 
they  attempt  to  strike  terror  into  my  soul  by  warning  me 
that  a  large  proportion  of  my  readers,  who  have  real  know- 
ledge of  the  subject,  will  agree  with  them,  and  will  be 
convinced  that,  as  I  am  so  obviously  wrong  in  this  particu- 
lar, nothing  else  I  have  to  say  is  worthy  of  credence. 

Facing  this  contention,  I  have  given  the  subject  renewed 
consideration,  and  have  failed  to  find  myself  in  error.    J 
do   not  acknowledge  my  ignorance,  or   the  inaccuracy  of 
my  view.      My  final  judgment  is  that  this  peaceful  contro- 
versy between  my  friends  and  myself  merely  goes  to  prove 
my  statement  as  to  the  very  general,  but  unacknowledged, 
pleasure  gained  in  the  vicarious  expression  of  the  figntu 
instinct:   and  the  fact  that  I  stick  to  my  guns  must  be 
agreed  to  present  substantial  evidence  that  some  measu 
of  courage  may  exist  even  in  a  "mollycoddle    like  myself. 


218     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

Turning  now  to  the  consideration  of  the 
secondary  form  of  the  expression  of  the  fight- 
ing instincts  in  the  co-operative  activities  of 
war,  we  as  pacifists  should  evidently  in  the 
first  place  make  every  possible  effort  to  build 
up  in  the  young  a  clear  appreciation  of  the 
fact  that  the  individual  man  must  bear  re- 
sponsibility so  far  as  his  attitudes  encourage 
the  political  leaders  of  his  country  in  actions 
that  tend  to  yield  war ;  and  a  profound  con- 
viction that  these  attitudes  should  be  dis- 
countenanced, and  the  expressions  attached 
to  them  inhibited. 

We  should  avoid  giving  to  the  child  false 
notions  as  to  the  significance  of  war;  and 
should  do  what  we  can  to  break  down  the  sen- 
timent that  leads  the  youth  to  look  upon  the 
life  of  the  soldier  as,  in  itself,  a  glorious  life. 
To  that  end  we  should  do  what  we  can  to  urge 
reform  in  the  teaching  of  history  so  that  the 
child  shall  no  longer  be  taught  to  think  so 
much  as  he  now  does  of  the  world's  battles; 
but  more  of  the  steps  in  the  advance  of  true 
culture,  and  in  the  development  of  ideals. 
We  should  insist  that,  so  far  as  it  is  neces- 
sary to  speak  of  wars  in  the  teaching  of  his- 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    219 

tory,  the  utter  stupidity  of  war  should  be  em- 
phasised, by  calling  attention  to  the  inconsid- 
erable gains  made  in  connection  with  each 
special  war,  and  the  terrible  personal  and 
national  losses  that  have  accompanied  it ;  and 
in  general  laying  stress  upon  the  formidable 
bar  that  war  places  in  the  way  of  human 
progress. 

In  the  second  place  we  should  devote  our 
attention  to  efforts  to  avoid,  or  remove,  the 
stimuli  which  we  discover  to  have  tended 
in  the  past  to  arouse  warlike  activities. 

We  should  note  that  one  of  the  most  com- 
mon causes  of  war  in  the  past  has  been  the 
extension  of  the  evil  of  covetousness,  which 
is  originally  of  individualistic  import,  to  ap- 
ply to  the  land  and  riches  of  those  of  another 
nation.  We  should  show  to  the  young  that 
the  ancient  and  modern  "lust  of  empire"  is 
but  a  development  of  this  primeval  covetous- 
ness  of  the  savage,  which  has  already  been 
largely  inhibited  in  its  original  application  to 
other  individuals  in  the  very  growth  of  the 
social  communities  which  now  exhibit  it 
towards  one  another. 

Wars  may  often  be  traced  to  economic  con- 


220     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

ditions  as  their  immediate  causes.  But  behind 
these  economic  conditions  is  always  found 
the  eagerness  of  the  individual  to  gain  ad- 
vantage for  himself,  which  he  transmutes 
into  eagerness  for  national  gain  where  he 
comes  to  recognise  himself  as  a  member  of 
a  community  the  desires  and  aims  of  whose 
members  are  the  same  as  his  own. 

We  shall  make  no  advance  in  the  repres- 
sion of  this  nationalised  covetousness  so  long 
as  we  fail  to  distinguish  sharply  the  higher 
moral  qualities  from  the  moral  quality  of 
the  enthusiasm  aroused  by  the  thought  of 
a  broadened  extension  of  a  nation's  nom- 
inal control;  so  long  as  we  listen  to  persua- 
sive writers  like  J.  A.  Cramb*  who  would 
identify  the  moral  quality  of  this  enthusiasm 
of  the  savage  with  that  of  a  dying  Scott  in 
his  elation  over  the  service  he  had  been  able 
to  render  to  his  country  in  scientific  achieve- 
ment. 

It  is  the  duty  of  the  people  of  the  Western 
world,  we  are  told,  to  force  our  civilisation 
upon  the  great  peoples  of  the  East  who  have 
not  invented  such  effective  instruments  of 

*  "Germany  and  England,"  Lecture  II,  Section  IV. 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    221 

war  as  we  have ;  and  we  are  told  that  this  can 
only  be  done  by  commercial  enterprise  backed 
by  aggressive  threat  of  warlike  attack. 

One  cannot  but  look  with  suspicion  upon 
such  a  theory  of  interracial  duty  when  one 
notes  how  closely  connected  with  it  are  the 
sordid  motives  of  commercial  gain.  One  is 
led  to  ask  whether  it  is  not  pure  sentimental- 
ism,  if  not  disingenuousness,  to  describe  such 
action  as  "The  White  Man's  Burden."  I 
think  it  is ;  for,  in  my  view,  the  argument  is 
a  specious  one. 

It  does  not  seem  to  me  that  we  are  called 
upon  to  spread  the  influence  of  our  civilisa- 
tion by  any  means  that  involves  the  commer- 
cial exploitation  of  a  country  whose  inhabi- 
tants have  not  themselves  been  awakened  to 
the  value  of  the  developments  we  would  make 
for  them ;  or  by  any  means  that  may  by  any 
possibility  involve  the  miseries  of  war. 

In  these  days,  however,  wars  that  are  un- 
dertaken in  the  interest  of  acknowledged  ag- 
gression are  relatively  rare.  It  is  clear  that 
in  the  present  war,  for  instance,  each  of  the 
contestants  has  convinced  itself  that  it  was 
compelled  to  defensive  war  by  aggression  on 


222     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

the  part  of  some  other  nation.  Thus  it  ap- 
pears that  the  stimulus  to  the  fighting  in- 
stincts in  this  case  has  been  hatred  bred  of 
suspicion. 

This  leads  us  to  see  that  we  should  make 
earnest  effort  to  avoid  in  ourselves,  and  to 
discourage  in  others,  the  entertainment  of 
prejudices  and  suspicions,  and  to  inhibit 
the  resultant  hates,  towards  men  of  other 
races  than  our  own;  for  it  is  to  such  preju- 
dices and  suspicions  and  resultant  hates  of 
the  individual  that  we  must  look  if  we  are  to 
find  the  most  frequent  proximate  causes  of 
war. 

We  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  basis  of  the 
sentiment  of  patriotism  is  to  be  found,  as  I 
have  noted  in  a  previous  chapter,  in  condi- 
tions of  early  clan  life  where  actual  physical 
struggle  alone  determined  persistence;  and 
should  aim  to  break  down  narrow  national- 
ism, which  is  too  often  glorified  under  the 
name  of  patriotism.  How  significant  a  force 
this  nationalistic  feeling  is  in  the  production 
of  war  may  be  seen  to-day  in  Europe  as  this  is 
depicted,  for  instance,  in  J.  A.  Cramb's 
" Germany  and  England."  And  how  un- 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    223 

necessary  it  is  to  the  welfare  of  man  may  be 
seen  in  the  prosperity  and  advance  in  culture, 
under  conditions  of  peace,  of  the  people  of  the 
United  States  and  Canada;  and  in  the  good 
feeling  existing  between  these  two  nations, 
although  they  live  side  by  side,  and  have  quite 
diverse  interests. 

We  hear  much  discussion  to-day  of  the  un- 
quenchable rivalries  and  ambitions  of  diverse 
races  as  the  basis  of  war;  we  hear  of  the 
Slavic  peril  for  instance,  and  of  the  vital  dif- 
ferences between  the  Greco-Latin  races  and 
the  Teutons,  as  fundamental  grounds  of  na- 
tional opposition.  But  when  we  study  the 
matter  closely  we  are  led  to  question  the  ade- 
quacy of  the  explanation  of  war  in  terms  of 
racial  opposition;  for  we  find  much  evidence 
in  the  past  that  the  national  distinctions  that 
have  been  appealed  to  by  those  eager  to  make 
war,  have  failed  altogether  to  correspond 
with  the  racial  distinctions  referred  to. 

Professor  Miinsterberg  saw  reason,  just 
before  the  present  war  broke  out,  to  group 
the  English  with  the  Prussians  as  fellow  Teu- 
tons, as  Chamberlain  had  done  before  him. 


224     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

The  ancestors  of  the  Prussians  themselves 
were  largely  Slavonic  Wends.  Polish  blood 
flows  freely  in  the  veins  of  many  of  the  aris- 
tocracy of  Saxony.  And,  as  Disraeli  pointed 
out  in  his  "Endymion,"  it  is  utterly  impossi- 
ble to  give  reasonable  grounds  for  the  claim 
of  racial  unity  among  the  so-called  Greco- 
Latin  peoples.  The  French-speaking  people 
of  southern  France  have  been  found  within  a 
century  fighting  as  Italians  in  the  interest  of 
Italy. 

No  one  can  study  the  shif  tings  of  national 
interests,  and  of  national  patriotic  devotion, 
that  have  occurred  within  the  boundaries  of 
Europe  during  the  last  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years,  to  go  no  farther  back,  without  appre- 
ciating that  national  feeling  is  based  very 
much  less  upon  any  fundamental  racial  dis- 
tinctions than  is  generally  supposed  to  be  the 
case ;  nor  without  becoming  convinced  that  it 
exists  largely  because  it  is  stimulated  and 
encouraged  by  political  leaders  to  further 
their  own  ends. 

With  these  facts  in  mind  it  seems  to  me  we 
should  attempt  to  break  down  the  narrow 
national  patriotism  which  appeals  to  a  false 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    225 

racial  patriotism.  We  should  teach  a  newer 
broad  international  and  interracial  patriot- 
ism that  knows  no  enemies  but  those  who  are 
guilty  of  violent  attack  upon  the  free  devel- 
opment of  others,  and  that  buries  forever  the 
older  worn  out  patriotism  to  which  most  of 
us  still  cling. 

We  should  endeavour  to  produce  in  all  men 
a  deep  conviction  as  to  the  immorality  of  war. 

Again,  if  we  are  convinced  that  the  mere 
chaining  of  our  war-bringing  instincts  is  ever 
subject  to  the  danger  that  the  chains  may  be 
broken,  and  that  then  the  instinctive  tenden- 
cies will  lead  to  war,  we  should  surely  make 
earnest  endeavour  to  divert  the  forces  in- 
volved into  channels  that  will  yield  social  ad- 
vantage ;  and  an  advantage  so  significant  that 
the  functioning  in  a  warlike  manner  will  ap- 
pear detrimental  and  stupid. 

Does  the  reader  feel  inclined  to  say  that  he 
does  not  see  clearly  the  directions  in  which 
we  can  divert  this  functioning  that  now  yields 
war?  Well,  we  have  an  example  of  what 
may  be  done  in  this  direction  in  the  wise 
action  of  the  Government  in  the  case  of  the 


226     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

wild  tribes  in  the  Philippines.  There  Tiead 
hunting  has  been  practically  obliterated  in  a 
decade  by  the  judicious  introduction  of  game 
contests  between  the  hostile  tribes,  who  by 
this  means  are  brought  into  relations  that 
preclude  enmity  and  lead  to  friendliness. 

It  may  perhaps  be  said  that  such  an  ex- 
ample does  not  serve  us  well,  as  we  have  to 
deal  with  much  more  subtle  bases  of  conflict ; 
that  in  undertaking  the  task  suggested  we 
face  new  problems,  the  solutions  of  which  are 
not  in  any  way  clearly  denned.  And  this  is 
of  course  true. 

But  if  we  do  not  see  clearly,  may  this  not 
be  because  we  have  not  been  trying  to  see? 
How  can  we  wonder  that  we  do  not  find  that 
for  which  we  make  no  search?  No  one  who 
has  read  William  James's  suggestive  essay 
on  "The  Moral  Equivalent  of  War"  can  fail 
to  see  that  opportunities  are  open  to  us  for 
such  diversion  of  the  forces  which  now  make 
for  war. 

Turning  to  more  positive  efforts  to  attain 
our  end,  we  should  certainly  do  all  in  our 
power  to  encourage  international  co-opera- 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    227 

tion  in  science  and  philosophy,  and  especially 
in  matters  commercial  which  bring  into  touch 
the  less  thoughtful  of  men.  How  fine  a  thing 
it  would  have  been  had  the  Panama  Canal 
been  an  international  project,  for  the  benefit 
of  the  whole  world ;  rather  than  the  undertak- 
ing of  a  single  nation,  begun  under  conditions 
that  yielded  hostile  feeling,  and,  now  that  it  is 
completed,  guarded  by  armaments  to  secure 
its  possession. 

Again,  we  should  hold  up  the  hands  of  all 
those  who  aim  to  spread  the  acceptance  of  the 
ideal  of  peace,  even  when  they  appear  to  act 
without  keen  appreciation  of  existing  condi- 
tions, or  inconsistently  perhaps,  or  even  we 
may  think  somewhat  childishly. 

We  should  applaud  all  efforts  looking  to 
the  initiation  of  arbitration  courts  and  treat- 
ies, supporting  those  who  work  for  the  exten- 
sion of  their  application.  We  may  be  forced 
to  believe  that  they  may  fail  to  prevent  wars 
under  certain  conditions  while  the  world  is 
constituted  as  it  now  is;  but  their  very  ex- 
istence, and  the  constantly  increasing  refer- 
ence to  them  of  subjects  of  international  dif- 
ference, will  go  far  to  lead  national  Govern- 


228     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

ments  to  hesitate  to  plunge  their  people  into 
war. 

We  should  I  think  support  all  efforts  made 
in  the  interest  of  the  disarmament  of  nations, 
even  as  we  support  our  local  governments  in 
their  laws  which  prevent  the  private  citizen 
from  carrying  dangerous  weapons.  This  war 
has  conclusively  shown  that  the  armament  of 
peoples  whose  interests  are  diverse  tends  to 
result  in  war,  rather  than  to  avoid  it,  as  has 
so  often  been  held. 

And  this  disarmament  must  eventually  in- 
clude the  reduction  of  all  navies,  so  that  it 
may  no  longer  be  possible  for  any  nation  to 
claim  that  it  rules  the  sea.  It  will  some  day 
be  looked  upon  as  an  intolerable  pretension 
for  any  nation  that  chooses  to  wage  war  to 
claim  the  right  to  take  action  on  the  high 
seas,  in  regard  to  the  ships  of  neutral  nations, 
that  in  times  of  peace  would  be  looked  upon 
as  little  less  than  piratical. 

As  I  have  been  concerned  to  consider  gen- 
eral principles  only,  I  have  thus  far  at- 
tempted to  avoid  any  but  illustrative  refer- 
ence to  matters  at  present  under  debate.  In 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    22» 

closing  this  book,  however,  I  may  perhaps  be 
allowed  to  give  expression  to  my  opinion  in 
regard  to  a  question  of  special  interest  at  this 
time  to  me  as  a  citizen  of  the  United  States. 

It  seems  to  me  that  we  should  feel  it  a  duty 
to  oppose  the  efforts  being  made  to-day  look- 
ing to  the  increase  of  our  armament. 

We  must  remember  the  point  made  in  an 
earlier  chapter:  that  definite  forms  of  be- 
haviour necessarily  involve  equally  definite 
mental  attitudes;  and  vice  versa.  For  that 
reason,  if  for  none  other,  it  seems  to  me  we 
should  oppose  the  present  movement.  The  be- 
haviour involved  in  the  maintenance  of  any 
large  armament  would  certainly  involve  the 
growth  among  our  people  of  the  mental  atti- 
tudes that  we  so  greatly  deplore  in  the  best 
armed  nations  of  the  European  world  to-day. 

It  is  indeed  said  by  those  who  propose  this 
immediate  increase  of  our  armaments  that 
they  have  no  wish  to  do  more  than  prepare 
ourselves  against  the  danger  of  aggressive 
assault;  and  that  we  stand  in  no  danger  of 
acquiring  the  militarist  spirit  so  long  as  the 
civil  power  holds  control  of  the  war  power.  I 
myself  am  not  convinced  that  our  nation,  if 


230     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

fully  armed,  will  be  able  to  keep  the  militarist 
spirit  subordinate  to  the  civil  spirit.  When 
we  consider  the  broad  powers  given  by  our 
Constitution  to  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  we  see  the  danger  that  might  arise 
in  case  we  happened  to  elect  to  that  high  office 
a  man  of  belligerent  tendencies,  if  he  had  un- 
der his  control  a  very  powerful  army  and 
navy. 

Those  who  favour  new  extensive  armament 
on  our  part  overlook  the  fact  that  this  would 
almost  of  necessity  lead  to  a  like  armament  in 
Canada;  and  that  we  should  then  find  our- 
selves situated  much  as  the  European  States 
are.  Nothing  could  then  stand  in  the  way  of 
those  always  ready  to  foster  the  " jingo" 
sentiments  in  both  countries;  and  suspicion 
breeds  hate,  and  hate  breeds  war.  At  all 
events,  whatever  we  do  in  this  regard  should 
be  done  only  in  conjunction  with  Canada,  and 
with  a  complete  understanding  with  her  that 
the  action  is  taken  by  both  in  the  interest  of 
mutual  defence,  and  in  that  interest  only. 

The  opposition  to  the  movement  looking  to 
an  increase  of  our  armament  may,  however, 
be  put  on  quite  other  grounds.  When  in  the 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    231 

development  of  our  social  life  violent  attack 
upon  individual  by  individual  was  not  uncom- 
mon, and  the  duel  was  looked  upon  as  legiti- 
mate, it  required  no  little  courage  for  an  indi- 
vidual to  go  about  his  daily  task  unarmed. 
But  when  the  courageous  experiment  was 
once  made  it  was  found  to  be  fully  justified; 
for  it  soon  became  apparent  that  it  takes  two 
to  make  a  quarrel ;  and  in  decent  society  the 
aggressive  man  soon  found  himself  discred- 
ited. 

It  is  clear  that  if  the  disarmament  of  na- 
tions is  ever  to  be  accomplished  it  must  be  be- 
gun by  some  civilised  power  of  the  first  rank ; 
and  by  some  power  that  is  in  a  sufficiently 
favourable  position  to  run  some  serious  risk, 
and  that  has  undaunted  courage  to  take  this 
risk.  Evidently  the  United  States  is  thus 
favourably  situated.  The  question  then  is 
merely  whether  we  have  the  courage  to  make 
the  venture. 

We  are  a  specially  privileged  people,  free 
at  present  from  enemies  who  might  wish  to 
attack  us,  and  able  to  arm  without  too  long 
delay  should  we  see  signs  of  growing  danger 
of  aggression.  If  we  failed  of  alertness,  we 


232     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

might  by  a  bare  chance  be  caught  unprepared 
by  some  enemy  not  now  in  sight ;  but  it  were 
surely  better  to  take  this  small  risk  than  to 
waste  our  energies  in  what  is  likely  to  be  un- 
called-for preparation. 

Protected  as  we  are  by  our  broad  ocean 
boundaries  we  have  a  unique  opportunity  to 
show  to  the  world  the  benefits  accruing  to  a 
State  that  does  not  spend  a  large  proportion 
of  its  resources  upon  the  construction  of  im- 
plements of  destruction,  and  upon  the  train- 
ing of  large  bodies  of  its  citizens  to  their 
employment. 

Did  I,  as  an  individual,  find  living  at  some 
distance  from  me  a  first-class  prize-fighter, 
marvellously  efficient  but  at  the  time  thor- 
oughly exhausted,  it  would  surely  appear 
stupid  for  me  to  take  my  time  and  energies 
from  the  pursuits  for  which  I  seem  fitted  in 
order  to  devote  myself  to  the  attempt  to  be- 
come what  could  not  at  best  be  more  than  a 
second-rate  prize-fighter,  merely  because  of 
fear  that  the  first-rate  prize-fighter  might  re- 
gain his  strength  and  at  some  future  time  run 
amuck  and  do  me  an  injury.  It  seems  to  me 


OUR  RESPONSIBILITY  AND  DUTY    233 

that  it  would  be  equally  stupid  for  our  nation 
to  take  similar  action  for  similar  reasons. 

To  refrain  from  such  armament  will  indeed 
require  a  greater  courage  than  that  shown  by 
a  nation  that  fights  when  armed  to  the  teeth. 
But  I  have  full  confidence  that  our  people,  and 
their  representatives  in  the  Government,  will 
in  the  end  be  found  ready  to  display  this  de- 
gree of  courage. 

And  finally  as  thoughtful  pacifists  we  may 
turn  to  the  thoughtful  among  those  who  fail 
to  sympathise  with  our  attitude,  and  ask  them 
what  ideal  they  have  to  offer  to  us  in  lieu  of 
the  ideal  of  peace  they  would  have  us  reject. 

Do  they  look  for  the  development  on  this 
earth  of  a  nobler  type  of  men  as  the  result  of 
the  support  of  those  forces  which  inevitably 
lead  to  wart 

Do  they  think  to  entice  us  by  picturing  the 
recurrence  of  such  scenes  of  carnage  as  we 
now  view  in  Belgium  and  France,  Poland  and 
Servia?  By  asking  us  to  consider  with  joy 
the  continuance  of  a  race  that  is  from  time 
to  time  to  be  plunged  into  the  lowest  depths 
of  sorrow  and  misery!  By  representing  gen- 


234     WAR  AND  THE  IDEAL  OF  PEACE 

eration  after  generation  bereft  of  the  flower 
of  its  manhood  and  burdened  by  its  impover- 
ished womenkind  and  ill-eared-for  children? 
By  portraying  the  strivings  of  men  towards 
scientific  and  artistic  and  ethical  culture  peri- 
odically thwarted  by  the  crushing  poverty 
that  inevitably  follows  war? 

Do  they  picture  as  a  noble  race  that  in 
which  the  persistence  of  racial  and  national 
suspicions  and  hatreds  remain  undiscour- 
aged ;  in  which  the  lust  of  empire  remains  un- 
checked; in  which  sordid  longings  for  com- 
mercial gain  remain  unrestrained? 

Who  can  ask  questions  of  this  nature  with- 
out agreeing  that  if  man  is  to  gain  in  real 
nobility  he  must  at  all  hazards  learn  to  curb 
his  fighting  tendencies  by  the  full  control  of 
all  that  makes  for  war ;  and  that  it  is  for  us 
an  urgent  duty  to  use  our  every  effort  to  en- 
force the  acceptance  of  the  very  broadest 
form  of  the  Ideal  of  Peace. 


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